


flying through free fall

by Serinah



Series: Winter Soldier Tony [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Man Out of Time, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers-centric, Tony Stark is Winter Soldier, no Bucky sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah
Summary: The asset is a ghost story. It is not here, it does not sleep. It does not hear your cries, it does not weep.*Steve leafs through a file, then sits down and sipping at his tea, starts readingProgram: Winter SoldierAsset designation: Iron ManSerial number: 4721 7093 AInstead of a portrait picture like in the rest of the STRIKE team member files, Iron Man’s has full frontal, left side and the back view photos. He looks almost as beautiful as in reality. Even now, several hours past, Steve still finds his heart picking up when he remembers the first moment Iron Man stepped into the room they had their first debrief in.***A story about how Steve is discovering his new present, about what he thinks and feels; his thoughts on androids and love. It's about how he fights for what is right, how he tries to woo an android and just for funsies, there's also a bit of infiltration, destruction of scientific equipment, thievery, straight-out fighting, and a spot of stargazing thrown in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative work, a short series, the first part of which is mostly written by Serinah and the second story by ravenreyaidala. They are quite different, so if you don't feel very inspired by the first one, don't pass up the second and visa versa.
> 
> The first is Steve-centric, and Raven's story is technically a prequel from Tony's POV. Basically, pain-pain-pain, if you are into this type of thing (of course, you are - what is better than some Tony-torture?).
> 
> Title from T.Swift’s ‘Red’
> 
> BETA: Freezy - you are AWESOME!  
> Other people also helped: atheltiger, Coaster, changemyluck -THANK YOU!
> 
> (Also, after reading this, someone asked me, 'but where's the PORN, Seri??'. So, just in case, I'm letting you know right now - sorry, this story doesn't have sex in it. But I still hope you'll enjoy it?) :)
> 
> ART is made by a wonderful PjCole and we LOVE it!! <3

.

.

_._

_The asset is a ghost story._

_It haunts people who will never see its face or feel its presence; it is spoken of with the same hushed tones as the devil, and it is everywhere and nowhere, a living myth no one can believe in the light of day._

_It knows only its mission, its unfinished business. It wakes without warning and sleeps like ice, it is cold, unyielding iron. It will finish its mission, without any care or regard for the devastation it leaves in its wake. The asset knows only two things: its mission and painless oblivion._

_The asset is a ghost story. It is not here, it does not sleep. It does not hear your cries, it does not weep._

**_._**

**_._ **

**_._ **

Steve leafs through a file, then sits down and sipping at his tea, starts reading.

 

**Program: Winter Soldier**

**Asset designation: Iron Man**

**Serial number: 4721 7093 A**

 

Instead of a portrait picture like in the rest of the STRIKE team member files, Iron Man’s has full frontal, left side and the back view photos. He looks almost as beautiful as in reality. Even now, several hours past, Steve still finds his heart picking up when he remembers the first moment Iron Man stepped into the room they had their first debrief in. For a second, Steve’s fingers tighten on the folder.

Inexplicably, reading the file makes him angry. Probably because it reads like a mix between a user manual with specifications and a list of commands and safety rules for working with a wild animal. Since the file avoids concrete pronouns Steve’s still not sure if he should say it or he. He is sure that he didn’t hear Secretary Pierce use a pronoun either, but it feels wrong to depersonalize someone who walks, talks and responds to orders. What even is this Winter Soldier program? If it was an android development program, why not just say so? Nothing he reads sheds any light on the mystery, nor does he find any information about it in the SHIELD system, not even a file he has no access to.

When Alexander Pierce first arrived to the team's debrief, Iron Man had just stood behind his shoulder, acting like a bodyguard and Steve had no idea if it was a robot or a man in full body armor. The moment he saw the dark grey armour with lighter silver highlights, all Steve wanted to do was to get closer and run his fingers over the delicate sleek metalwork; to touch and see what it felt like. Most of the STRIKE team had obviously seen him, it? - him before, but a few seemed as curious as Steve felt.

After some introductory sentences, Pierce said, “Well, Captain, I can see you have everything in hand. Congratulations on your appointment as the leader of the STRIKE Team Alpha.” He stepped aside to gesture to the metal clad man, standing eerily still and not reacting to the pronouncement in any way. “And this is Iron Man, the final member of our team.”

After a millisecond of uncertainty, Steve stepped closer and held out his hand.

“Welcome to the team, Iron Man.”

Iron Man inclined his head and clasped Steve’s hand. “Thank you, Captain.”

Steve’s eyes widened at the electronic voice.

“Iron Man is truly a feat of genetic and electronic engineering,” Secretary Pierce said. “I hope that the asset can help your team shape the world for a better future.”

Still staring at the light coming from the eye slits, Steve nodded. “I'm sure, the team will do their best, sir,” he said.

“Iron Man will report to you personally, acting in whatever capacity you see fit, Captain.”

Steve forced himself to tear his gaze away from Iron Man. “Thank you.”

“Iron Man is very good at taking orders,” the secretary said. “He can be extremely effective when given free rein. I don't foresee any problems, but if there are, the order to stand down and report to the closest repair station should help. That order hasn't been ignored in years, isn’t that right, Iron Man?”

“I know what's good for me, sir.”

Steve is still not sure if it was meant to be humorous or not, but everyone smiled and so did he.

 

Twelve men and an android. Steve has no idea what he’s really meant to be doing with him, though. Officially, he is acting as a liason, meant to participate in team practice only once a month, which means that so far, the list of his capabilities is just that, a list. He has three times the average human strength, speed and agility. Sharper reflexes, quick strategic thinking and repulsor thrusters in the palms and the soles of his feet that function as weapons and help in making jumps farther than any human being could. Via repulsors, he can hover in the air for as long as four seconds which might be instrumental in getting him over and through obstacles that for an average human would be impossible. Iron Man is also an expert in hand-to-hand, all kinds of weaponry and technology. Iron Man can apparently hack any system or platform, whatever that means.

 

Almost as strong as a supersoldier, but smarter, Steve sums up with a grimace. If all of this is true, then why isn’t Iron Man on solo missions, why saddle him with a team? The answer is glaringly obvious. The idea that his superiors think that Steve is too much of a relic to handle missions on his own, is humiliating. He will change their minds, but to do that he needs more information. For example, if Iron Man has been mostly operating alone, or if he has always been a part of a team, that sort of thing. At least that’s the excuse he gives himself as he requests to see Iron Man's mission reports the next day. His call gets redirected three times and each time he's forced to thoroughly explain why it is strategically important to see the classified files to a new random nameless official. In the end, he's told to wait, so Steve waits.

 

Steve’s days are long. He goes for a run, does calisthenics, goes to the gym. After lunch, he goes to SHIELD and works out the training plans, watches all the news and reads everything he finds on geopolitics and political science. Slowly but surely, he becomes convinced that the world is still mostly the same as it was, even though people have found a lot more new terms to describe it. There are more people, more cars, more noise. More pets, but less strays. The development of technology is mind-boggling. Cars are yet to fly, but there are androids, some of which even have synthetic skin and hair, looking almost like real people, but strangely Iron Man, who’s covered entirely in metal, seems much more life-like to Steve than the androids that have specifically been made to resemble humans. Steve is not sure why he likes Iron Man so much.

Another thing that is outstandingly different is that there are more accepted genders and sexual orientations. Even if not accepted by all, in most countries, no one can be openly prosecuted for being different, so a lot more soul-bonded couples get registered. Steve remembers his friend Arnie and is glad.

The daily training sessions are a good routine and when his team is on-call, he spends the days in the compound round the clock. He has a small apartment there for when he needs to sleep while on duty. Steve also keeps his shield there, even though he rarely gets to use it now that he’s decided to fight more or less anonymously. The public doesn't know that Captain America has been found alive and Steve likes to keep it that way for now, even though Secretary Pierce did try to persuade him otherwise. His team knows though, as do a couple of doctors at medical and a therapist. Director Fury does, of course, but Steve wonders if Iron Man has been briefed on it and if he is, does he understand what it means. It’s stupid, they’ve only met once, but Steve wants Iron Man to know. Steve is not really special and he knows that, but some silly part of him wants to be special for Iron Man. But why would the android even care?

 

Sometimes, Steve just stares mindlessly at the TV and hates everything he sees. The future, the present is weird. Had he been asked before the war, he'd have said that it was unlikely that by the time they’d managed to develop technology that makes androids that look and feel as real as Iron Man, they still hadn’t cracked the secret of a soul bond. Not the mechanics of it, oh, they did discover that, but ultimately, all the wordy explanations about chain reactions and neurotransmitters only mean that what it boils down to, is biology. Maybe even chance? When Steve was small, people used to say that with your soulmate everything was better, but was it really? Maybe it was just brighter… literally?

That is the thing Steve resents the most - he’s in this blindingly bright new century, they’ve finally pinpointed what having a soulmate actually meant and it… wasn’t magical at all? More than that, they are no closer to discovering how to actually help one find their soulmate nor are there any tests for it, save for the tried and true method of touching as many people as possible. Steve isn’t enthusiastic about touching the backs of people’s hands on request; he knows it’s pointless. Any chance he’d had of meeting his soulmate is long gone. How the people so eagerly asking to touch him don’t see it, is mind-boggling. Still, every day he goes out, meets people, touches their hands and smiles. He has no illusions on that front; he just wishes his friends were still alive and praises and hates himself for his inability to move on. Then he trains with his team, trains alone and with his team again. Trains harder. At least he has the reports on Iron Man to look forward to.

 

It's more than a week later that Steve receives three heavily redacted files where the salient point seems to be that Iron Man is mainly sent in when a situation is hopeless and demands ruthless tearing through all and any obstacles, be it buildings, tech or people. While powerful, it’s not a nice picture that is being painted and despite the obvious advantage Iron Man gives in terms of IT skills, Steve’s starting to doubt if he even wants the man, the android-, Iron Man on the team.

 

The first mission that Iron Man is present for is kind of a bust because Steve ends up not using him. Steve keeps him as a back-up, but the mission is almost routine and there is no need for blunt force. Iron Man doesn’t seem to be disappointed; he just nods to Steve after the debrief and leaves without a word.

Steve feels like an idiot to have even called him in.

By the time the second mission rolls around, Steve has managed to get over thinking of the android as a last resort solution and has started thinking of how to best utilize his particular skills, so he gives him a concrete assignment. When he asks Iron Man if he thinks he will manage to covertly infiltrate the enemy base and take out the stray guards without tripping the alarms, there’s a short pause before he gets an answer.

“What’s the permissible casualty rate?” the synthetic voice asks. “Are fatal casualties acceptable?”

Steve should’ve known that would be the question the android would ask.

“As few fatalities as possible. Incapacitation and capture are preferable.”

“Understood.”

“The main objective is to infiltrate quietly. Do you think you can do it?” Steve presses for some real feedback. “We don’t know if you’ll encounter two operatives or twenty.”

“Failure is not an acceptable outcome, Captain,” the android’s answer is immediate and wooden. As if rote.

Steve isn’t sure Iron Man understands that accomplishing mission objective isn’t the only factor in determining success or failure, but this isn’t the time for explanations.

“We do need to secure the exit,” he added, “but we need you back in one piece too, so the moment it gets too hot, let us know and the backup will be there.”

“Yes, sir.”

For a brief second Steve contemplates if he should take the infiltration on himself, but every time he thinks of leaving Rumlow in charge of the whole team, he gets a bad feeling.

 

In the end, the mission goes without a glitch and there are no fatalities that any of the team members could’ve prevented and none by Iron Man. Steve is quite impressed with his performance, so over the course of the next six months of working together every mission and slowly, but surely, Steve learns to trust and even lean on him, but he seems to be the only one. The rest of the team still treats Iron Man like a thing and a couple of months in there’s a mission that is riddled with a series of mean tin-man jokes. At the debrief Steve reams them all a new one, but it feels like it’s just alienating him from the team. He feels like a failure.

“Look,” Dirk tells him after everyone has left. “You like the thing, I get it. Believe me,  I do. Hell, I had a broad made of metal and wires that I was really partial towards myself, once. But androids aren’t people, Cap.” He pats Steve commiseratingly on the shoulder. “And at the end of the day, they won’t like you back, so maybe just… lay off the guys, yeah?”

Steve looks at the older man’s dark knowing eyes and nods but doesn’t lay off. He can’t. Respect should be shown to all members of the team regardless of their status in the eyes of the law.

Steve tries drawing Iron Man into group conversations, but no one feels comfortable, including Steve, but he can’t give up, and slowly the team gets used to the android’s presence. But past one joint training a month, Iron Man is there only for the missions, and Steve feels that the team cohesion is lagging. That needs to change.

Surprisingly, Steve is granted an audience with Secretary Pierce the next afternoon and visits his spacious office in full SHIELD uniform. Graciously, Pierce waves him ‘at ease’ and invites him to sit in the armchairs at the floor-to-ceiling window.

After listening for a thorough explanation about the relationship between team unity and success rates, Pierce says, “I understand your position, Captain.” He takes a moment to study Steve before continuing. “However, I feel that you may be overestimating what Iron Man can offer your team.” He raises his hand to stave off any counter-arguments Steve might have. “I understand what you are saying about training together, but what you should realize, Captain, is that as much Iron Man seems independent and rational, he is still not a person. I know it must be difficult for you to see this since in your time androids were very much a thing of science fiction and you missed several generations of androids who were awkward-moving and had only seventeen operations they could perform at a time. Compared to them, Iron Man must seem like a miracle to you. Almost human.” Pierce stands, puts his hands behind his back and walks towards the window. “But androids are not human, Captain.”

Steve does not have arguments, he has feelings and he knows it’s not enough. “Is there an actual reason you’re refusing my request, sir?” he says mulishly.

There is no indication that Pierce hesitates or has reconsidered, but for some reason, Steve is convinced that what the man says next is not what he planned at the beginning of their conversation.

“Oh, but I’m not refusing your request,” Pierce says. “Not at all. If you need Iron Man to train with you, you can have him.”

He says it lightly as if it doesn’t matter, but Steve knows it does and Pierce knows that he knows.

 

After that, Iron Man starts joining them for larger training maneuvers and then, as it proves beneficial, the regular sessions. The team’s performance rates go up exponentially and the team works like a well-oiled machine.

That is when Steve discovers that Iron Man has a sense of humor.

 

“Jeezus, fuckin’ Christ!” Holtz swears and since it’s just a routine exercise and no one’s life was in danger, Steve opens his mouth to reprimand his team member when to his surprise, Iron Man interjects with, “I’m so sorry, Jimmy. My bad.”

Holtz turns to look up at the tall android with incredulity. “You don’t get to call me that,” he says in an unpleasant tone that makes Steve bristle. “Only my friends call me that, you fuckin’ tin-tard.” He lifts his foot to massage his ankle.

“I apologize, automatic rifleman Jeremiah Holtz, for overstepping,” Iron Man replies in the same steady monotone. “And stepping on you. Sometimes it is difficult to notice where smaller men put their limbs.”

For a split second, Holtz just stares at Iron Man, a violent blush rising from his neck and spreading over his ears and cheeks, but just as he puts his foot back down and opens his mouth, the android cuts him off again.

“There must be some glitch in my eye-foot coordination. I’ll tell the repair team to recalibrate, automatic rifleman Jeremiah Holtz.”

Noticing other teammates starting to pay attention, Holtz visibly reigns himself in and nods. “You do that, you clumsy little fucktard. You do that.”

His voice doesn’t sound anything but mean and livid, which is probably the only reason why Iron Man’s polite ‘certainly, sir’ with an added ‘automatic rifleman Jeremiah Holtz’ sounds so mocking. Steve is almost sure that’s the reason and not that Iron Man is actually mocking the man.

Amusingly, Holtz gets flustered. “Call me sergeant,” he says with a forced calm designed to portray superior indifference, but he fails miserably and everyone knows it.

“Certainly, sergeant,” Iron Man continues in a synthetic tone that sounds just like it always does, but somehow echoes through the hall nevertheless. “I’m sorry for over... stepping.”

Steve feels his eyes go round - did he imagine the half-a-second pause before the word ‘stepping’? With the synthetic voice modulator, it’s so difficult to say if there’s a glitch or if it’s intentional, so, at first, Steve doubts whether Iron Man has, in fact, just enacted his revenge on the most narrow-minded and a first-rate asshole of a teammate or not, but then he remembers that Iron Man is not clumsy. Nor does he use quite so proper English. Moreover, that time, he sounded almost… British?

The best part is that some STRIKE team members using the ‘automatic rifleman’ nickname and keep mocking Holtz with it. Steve keeps a straight face and doesn’t comment.

 

After that, as an experiment, Steve tries using humor whenever he can when talking to Iron Man even though it doesn’t seem to get much of a reaction at first. Then, about eight months since they start working together, an empty building collapses and blinking through the thick smoke and dust in the air, Steve sneezes.

“Getting the sniffles?” Iron Man asks with the same strange inflection.

It’s the first time that Iron Man has initiated any banter, so Steve feels incredibly light and laughs louder than perhaps warranted. “Just be grateful it doesn't spread via wi-fi,” Steve parries, still smiling.

“Probably not that kind of virus,” Iron Man responds in a monotone, but he tilts his head in a way that makes Steve think he’s amused.

 

The low-key joking around turns into their new normal. Iron Man’s replies are dry and curt, but soon the two of them have, what could only be called in-jokes, and that is hardly something that could happen between a machine and a person, is it?

Steve doesn’t know.

 

“Stop flirting with the android, Cap,” an agent from Records tells him one day jokingly and Steve laughs, as he hopes, dismissively, but he also blushes and tries to reign himself in. For a while. But then he stupidly starts asking Iron Man to stay after training sessions and debriefs to discuss strategy and despite the android mostly speaking only on topic and voicing no opinions on Steve’s random chatter, he listens. And slowly, slowly starts to relax his rigid posture when it’s just the two of them. Then one time, when it’s late and they are tired, Iron Man _fiddles_ with a _pen._

Do androids do that? Make jokes, relax, fiddle?

During these almost private moments, Iron Man is so much like a person that sometimes Steve forgets that he’s not… not supposed to be. But maybe he is? Maybe… But Steve doesn’t let himself think that.

There are different types of androids in almost every area of life these days; many in service and heavy industries, most filling health hazardous jobs, so would it really be that much of a stretch to imagine that someone as sleek, graceful and intelligent as Iron Man would’ve developed a more complex personality than all others? What if Iron Man... essentially is… a person?

In the end, Steve doesn’t have answers. The possibility of artificial intelligences being so advanced that they might copy human behavioral patterns seems a lot more reasonable. But why would Iron Man do that? Has he been studying Steve? Conducting some kind of experiment on him to learn more about human nature? Or maybe he’s trying to be more human to spy on him for… SHIELD? No. That doesn’t feel right either. Once, Steve commented on Iron Man tapping his toe against the table leg, and the other… man had frozen, drawn up into the rigid pose of a robot and didn’t display any human mannerisms for the next several instances they saw each other.

Steve can’t see how trying to be more human-like benefits their working relationship or anything at all, unless Iron Man is just trying to… make friends? Is that what this is? Steve feels warmed by the insane idea, but then it would also mean that Iron Man felt embarrassed about his attempts when called out, so just in case, Steve stops making any comments on how Iron Man behaves and slowly, he relaxes again.

It’s weird, but there’s a nagging thought at the back of Steve’s head... No. The idea is scary and Steve keeps pushing it away. Iron Man can’t be human under the metal plates, because it just feels so much like wishful thinking. Besides, if he was human, why would it be a secret? Clearly, everyone at SHIELD thinks Iron Man is an android. Why was Steve still doubting it? He’s been told time and time again. Secretary Pierce himself had called him a feat of genetic and electronic engineering. Surely, he wouldn’t have done that, if Iron Man were actually in any way a human being?

Fine. He’s not human, but that’s not the same as not a person.

Steve knows that legally androids and AIs aren’t considered people with free will or human rights, but what if they _should_ be? Iron Man _belonging_ to SHIELD sits wrong with him. Iron Man has opinions. Backed by logical reasoning, yes, but sometimes he still seems to have personal preferences and therefore, should be regarded as an independent individual with free will. Can an android have opinions and preferences? Steve goes online and tries to research the topic of artificial intelligence and free will further. When that is not enough, he becomes a member of an academic library and dives into actual scientific studies.

When he absently asks Iron Man about a term he’s come across in passing, he discovers that Iron Man can understand and explain complicated scientific methods, terms and concepts. Listening to Iron Man explain the principles of quantitative research, Steve watches how his metal hand moves through the air in demonstration and an elated warmth spreads through his chest. What hits him especially hard is when Iron Man says that he likes quantitative methods better than qualitative. Iron Man likes things; he _does_ have preferences.

Steve is an idiot. How does one even fall for an android? If Iron Man is indeed an android… But he is, isn’t he? It would be too fantastic to discover that he’s actually what Steve desperately wants him to be, just because he’s been stupid enough to fall for him. Just because he thinks it would be easier for him to love someone of flesh and bone. Iron Man is an android, Steve is almost sure. A person, too, yes, Steve stopped questioning that, but not in the same way as Steve, not less, but still not the same either. He never starts a conversation, when touched outside of combat he stills and never pulls away, and always uses math to predict what the enemy would do next.

An android, Steve thinks with his heart aching anxiously. What’s the attraction there? The cold hard metal, dark grey and silver? The sleek line of his faceplate, the arch of his helmet curving back into an elegant dip at the nape of his neck that Steve wants to press his lips to? The powerful shoulders, muscular arms and thighs, moving with speed and precision almost equal to his own? The white-hot circles of flame in his palms and the soles of his feet are as far from human as it gets, and yet they are as breathtakingly beautiful as they are deadly. Or maybe it’s the glint on his square jaw or how he sometimes tilts his head at an angle which instantly makes Steve think that he’s raised his nonexistent eyebrow in amusement and Steve… wants to trail a line along it with his fingertips.

But he can’t actually be with an android, not really? Not even if he’s lost his soulmate to the tides of time. _That_ Steve tries not to think about.

 

It’s a little over a year into their acquaintance that an explosion traps Iron Man and seven more men in the underground factory that might or might not have been used to cook meth. The comms are down and there’s no contact with any of them. Although most of the criminals are subdued just after the explosion, the emergency rescue workers are grim-faced.

Two and half hours later they are still waiting for the excavators and some heavy rescue machinery to arrive and Steve overhears the rescue team members discuss the nature of the explosion and the angle of the crater. Even though none of them says it, Steve is sure that they think there’s no point in hurrying with the rescue procedure and feels the icy hand of panic squeeze his insides. He grabs a shovel and demands that they explain to him where they think it would be safest to start digging. They try to calm him down and wait for the excavators, but when he just starts digging, they finally tell him what not to do. The explanation takes too long for his liking and then it’s almost forty-seven minutes into the digging (many people join his efforts) when he hears shouting from the back of the ruins.

Steve runs.

What he sees, when he arrives, is both the worst and the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen; through the crowd of tired-looking team members in various state of injury, he notices Iron Man, barely standing, leaning into the side of an emergency vehicle, shoulders slumped, head lowered as if exhausted. The metal on his body is scraped, darker than it usually is and dull, covered in a layer of dust. The hand that Steve can see is grimy and oddly dented as if he’d used it to dig through a rock wall and his left foot… is a mangled mess of metal and wires. Part of it is cut off, some squashed flat, but it’s obviously functional otherwise since Iron Man is standing on the heel part of it without apparent problems.

There’s no blood or any flesh in sight and everything in Steve goes quietly ‘oh’ for a moment. So there’s no chance of a soul bond, Steve realizes and almost laughs hysterically at himself. Where had that thought even come from? He’d known that Iron Man wasn’t human, he’d known and still…

Steve stamps down the hopelessness of his crush and allows himself to feel the overwhelming relief that Iron Man is safe.

 

Two months later Steve is still an idiot. He’s accepted that Iron Man most probably lacks the ability of returning his feelings and sexual attraction. There are camaraderie and companionship (at least Steve thinks so) - would that be enough for a relationship? Would Iron Man ever consider a romantic relationship with a human? Why would he even want that? (Although why did they give him such an obvious package if there isn’t actually anything actually in there? For intimidating purposes?) The idea of a relationship with an android is ridiculous, but so is Steve’s moronic attraction now that he’s seen the proof that there was just a metal carcass and wiring underneath the armor. The memory is still painful and disappointing but hasn’t decreased Steve’s ardour any. Stubborn to a T.

 

Sometimes he thinks that Iron Man is fond of him too; sees a stirring of an emotional attachment, but that is also probably wishful thinking, because most of the STRIKE team members still treat him as little more than a tool, so it’s not as if Iron Man  has a lot of options for forming friendships if that was what he was doing. Steve tries to instil the idea of respect towards the android into them, but it’s not working very well. At best, they acknowledge that yes, that knife is very sharp and they’ve stopped with the degrading vocabulary as far as Steve knows.

That is where Steve should’ve displayed some common sense and stopped, but that is not who he is. Steve Rogers is the one who pushes. And pushes. Later, he’s got no one to blame but himself. It’s after a practice on the SHIELD training grounds when everyone’s already gone to the lockers, that Steve is standing and looking at Iron Man sitting on a bench and scraping sawdust out from under the sole of his foot. His fingers are a bit thick for the task and he seems annoyed. Steve’s lips stretch over his cheeks.

“Need some help, Shellhead?”

There’s a sigh-like static. “What are you gonna do? Pick the chips out with your tiny little girl fingers?”

“Yes.” Steve can’t stop grinning.

Iron Man looks up at him and for a moment he just stares. “Right.”

Abruptly, he stands up and at the same time Steve has moved closer and they almost collide; Steve grabs a metal elbow to steady them both and Iron Man’s fingers end up gripping Steve’s hip. It’s an awkward moment, and at the same time not, and Steve blurts, “Go out with me.”

Later, he’ll remember thinking that he didn’t care whether Iron Man would be able to ever return his feelings if he would just share his companionship. Steve will remember thinking how good the metal would feel under his fingers if he’d taken his gloves off first. He will remember silly daydreams of going through their morning routine together and cuddling on the sofa in the evenings, and thinking whether he had room for a charging pod in his apartment.

Later, Steve is at a total loss as to what the hell had he been thinking. The whole idea had been idiotic from the start - how would he even go about asking SHIELD to give Iron Man over to Steve’s personal custody even if the android himself accepted?

“Out? Like…” Iron Man asks slowly as if trying to parse the meaning of the word. “You mean like for a date?”

Iron Man steps back and then flinches as an after-effect. Steve’s body tingles at the previous point of contact.

“Yes,” Steve says, bold now that it’s finally out. His heart is in his throat and logically he knows that it’s going to be a no, but it’s not a no yet - Iron Man is listening and AIs aren’t supposed to hesitate unless there’s a glitch and if he’s managed to make him glitch then there’s a chance that... “I know this quiet place they won’t mind an android,” he says quickly. “We could just talk.” There’s a long minute of silence that Steve is used to enough not to be unnerved, but the stakes are high and he swallows convulsively before continuing, “Or we could just go for a walk? In the park? Or to the movies or dancing…?” He trails off because everything he’s saying might be designed to give Iron Man options, but instead, it all sounds ridiculous to the Nth degree. Why would an android want to see a movie or go dancing? Maybe he’d want to talk to Steve for educational purposes, but meet up for a date? Steve is an idiot. There’s a painfully long pause again while Iron Man stares at him unmoving, but then he jerks and steps back another step.

“No,” he says dully.

_No._ Steve sags under the blow of the answer that is devastating in its predictability, even though he’d been hoping to be let down more gently than this. Nevertheless, Steve also feels grateful that it’s now over. He’s put himself out there; even foolishly, impulsively, but he _did._ He’s asked, he’s tried. And now he knows.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s fine.” Only now he notices to look around to check whether they might’ve been overheard, but the training grounds are empty. “Well,” he says with his throat dry and eyes hot, “See you around?” Without waiting for an answer, he quickly walks around Iron Man and back to the compound.

 

The next several weeks Steve tries keeping his distance and Iron Man does the same. In fact, he’s more robotic than ever and Steve _hates_ it. There’s no doubt in his mind that even if there had been something similar to a friendship between them, he’s now fucked it up. Haltingly, he tries out ‘not that kind of a virus’ line, but is met by a blank non-reaction.

Steve aches.

 

Almost three months later Steve gets thrown into a concrete wall by a wrecking ball and for a minute, he blanks out. When he comes to, he’s lying down between a stack of wooden crates and another wall about ten meters away from where he’d originally landed. His vision is blurry, but it clears a little, even though he can still only see a section of the large yard they’re fighting in from behind the crates.

Singh and Park seem to be lying way behind the enemy on top of each other and he can’t see if they are alive or dead. The good thing is that he can hear the distinctive sounds of Iron Man leaping and shooting off with his repulsors. Slowly, Steve turns his head and a sharp stab of pain burns through his upper body.  He’s not sure where or how he’s hurt, but that doesn’t matter; he has to get up, he has to get out there; his team needs him. Steve gets his right hand under himself and tries lifting his upper body, but a wave of nausea rolls over him and for a short while he just trembles and fights to get up again, but all he manages is to gulp down the sick rising up into his mouth.

At last, he manages to prop himself up against the wall only to see a still blurry picture of Iron Man moving left and right with a dizzying speed trying to hold their position against seven, no ten people and one android. At least one android. Somewhere at the back of Steve’s mind there’s admiration for how different from those stiff machines Iron Man is, how nimble and powerful at the same time, and when for a split of a second Iron Man gets close enough, Steve wonders how he’d ever thought that Iron Man wouldn’t be human, before he passes out again.

 

The second time he comes to is to the harsh light of the infirmary and the feeling of irritation that he always gets about his body betraying him. Then he remembers that it’s not pneumonia but a concussion and probably a gunshot wound.

Three gunshot wounds, Steve learns only twelve minutes later as an elderly doctor tells him everything’s that’s wrong with him. It seems that he was shot in the left clavicle and twice in his left side near his guts, one of them a graze, which is almost healed now. Since it was yesterday, only one wound is still at all relevant and Steve demands a tablet to read his team reports, but only gets one when he starts getting out of bed.

“Thank you,” Steve acknowledges the nurse that brings him the tablet and logs into his inbox.

He’s stupidly relieved to see Iron Man’s report there with several others. There is never anything in his reports that indicates he’s been hit even when Steve knows for a fact that he has, but he’s filed his report promptly this time, which means no serious repairs had been needed. Something about the idea of repairs nags at him, but he casts it aside because Iron Man is an android, and androids need repairs. There’s nothing upsetting about that. Steve pushes the thought away.

Thankfully, soon other thoughts are occupying his mind: the mission objective has been achieved, Park and Yamada are recovering, but Singh is dead, and not for the first time, Steve feels bad for his identity being so secret that he can only write Mrs Singh a letter, but not deliver his condolences in person. Singh was a good soldier and a decent man. Steve had liked him. Damn.

 

The next time Steve sees Iron Man is a week later. It’s early autumn, the leaves have just started to change into several lighter shades of gray, but despite the tender feelings in his chest, to Steve, the trees still just look lighter in spots, like Iron Man’s faceplate is lighter than most of his armor. They are training on the open grounds and it’s harder to spot the opponent hiding in the bushes, but only two of the team members see color, so they are all equal in that respect. Iron Man is better at stealth and strategy this time around, but the mission objective is a takedown, not infiltration, so it takes his team a while to breach the perimeter.

When after the training session Steve sees Iron Man coming his way, his heart is pounding, his hands sweating; it feels wonderful and painful at the same time. It’s the first time that Iron Man shows initiative to talk to him without an invitation. Steve calls himself thousand times a fool when his heart tries to tell him it means something.

“Can I have ten minutes of your time, Captain Rogers?” Iron Man asks in his normal staticky voice and Steve wants to weep with relief because it feels as if he’s finally forgiven.

“Of course, Iron Man,” Steve responds. “Let’s go to my office.”

It’s painfully nostalgic to see Iron Man standing in front of his desk, almost at attention until Steve asks him to sit, and even though he does, his back is still ramrod-straight and he doesn’t act much like a human being.

“So what can I help you with?” Steve says because with Iron Man a direct approach usually works better than small talk.

“The offensive maneuvers we’ve been practising for the last several weeks. Today’s were executed perfectly.”

Steve smiles. “They were, weren’t they? I-”

“For when a direct attack is needed, yes. But in certain situations, a pincer ambush would be more effective.”

Steve’s brow furrows in a vague unease. “In certain situations, yes. We’ve practised that in April, but a refresher might be good.”

There’s a subtle shift in Iron Man’s posture, but why Steve thinks it conveys uncertainty, he can’t tell. “That is good,” he says, but continues quickly as if impatient to move on from an unpleasant thought. “I’m also not sure if Kenneth and Holtz know to refuse the flank. They always rush forward as if the enemy was behind them, not ahead.”

Steve grins. “Yes, so you’ve said. Any further thoughts on how to train them? Them and Park.”

“Joint training with an untried opponent. With the Delta team for example.”

Suddenly Steve feels cold all over. “We… did that at the beginning of May.”

Something isn’t right and Iron Man seems to know it. He stills even more, then tilts his head down and to the side as if… embarrassed and Steve instantly regrets he said anything.

“We did,” Iron Man states, but somehow it still sounds like a question.

“Yes,” Steve responds cautiously. “Are you... feeling alright?” He fully acknowledges that it’s a weird thing to ask an android, but he isn’t even sure if he knows the technical jargon to enquire after an AI’s… health?

“Yes. Thank you.” Iron Man is quiet for a moment. “The last re-calibration must have erased some of the information. I apologize.” He stands up. “I won’t try to interfere with your training strategy any further, Captain.”

Before Steve can even recover, he is already at the door with his palm on the handle.

“Iron Man!” Steve feels a slight panic at seeing him go and gets up from his seat.

If he doesn’t stop Iron Man now, that will be it and he’ll never have their… friendship back. Which is obviously ridiculous since he knows now for a fact that every time Iron Man gets re-calibrated, Steve can start over. Can start their whole relationship over. Can maybe learn how to be a better friend to Iron Man. Somehow the knowledge doesn't lighten his mood any.

“Captain?” Iron Man turns around, fluidly, calmly, but still with every plate of his body telegraphing reluctance.

“I like when you share your thoughts on strategy.” Idiot, Rogers. Try sounding a little more like a besotted fool, why don’t you? “I mean… It’s helpful.”

“There was nothing new or helpful about my suggestions today, Captain.”

“No,” Steve thinks of how to move on from this. “But all of the training strategy executed in the past several months has had significant input from you. Including the two suggestions you just shared. That you didn’t remember making them before is just a glitch. I’m sure you’ll have more great ideas once we’ve spent some time brainstorming again.”

There is a pause before Iron Man turns his faceplate fully towards Steve and Steve feels a shiver run through him as if he’s locked gazes with real flesh and bones eyes, not electronic camera-sensors that must be hiding behind the light.

“So you think you can make use of me again?”

The words are calmly inflectionless, but Steve can’t help but read emotion into it. He swallows back his dismay.

“Yes, Iron Man,” he says quietly. “You can be a great asset to me. To this team.”

“Good.” Some tension seems to leak out of his body and Iron Man nods. “Thank you.”

_You are so much more than a tool,_ Steve thinks as he watches the door close behind Iron Man.

 

The next mission is a quiet one and Iron Man never once shoots his repulsors rays, instead choosing to engage in close combat with a knife. Rumlow and Rollins go in just behind him and the AIM base is clear almost before anyone even sounds the alarm.

The debrief afterwards is also short and swift. Iron Man, Rumlow and Johansson dish it out in five minutes and agree on written reports in two days at the latest.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Steve says, looking up from his laptop.

“All the boys are meeting up next Friday at Mick’s, you wanna come, Cap?” Johansson asks while standing. “You’d be welcome.”

“I won’t be able to. Sorry,” he says not feeling sorry at all. He knows that it’s the wrong thing to do for team unity; he should hang out with the guys from time to time. But it’s clear that Iron Man is not invited, so it feels like a betrayal, especially since Iron Man just gets up, unsurprised, nods at Steve and starts leaving. That is when Steve suddenly notices the reason he’s slower than usual: he’s been favouring his right side.

“Iron Man, could you stay for a minute?”

Leaving, Rumlow and Johansson don’t even exchange a look as if it’s an everyday occurrence even though it’s not anymore.

“Captain?” Iron Man says, still standing and Steve gets a distinct impression that it’s easier for him to stand than to sit back down again.

“You’re hurt,” Steve blurts.

“My right backplate is damaged,” Iron Man says patiently as if waiting for permission to leave at any moment.

Feeling like an idiot, Steve almost leaps over the desk corner so he can get to Iron Man as fast as possible. As if it matters. As if he can help-

“Iron Man!” His voice is horrified, but he’s not even sure why - he’s seen Iron Man covered in blood plenty of times before, and that’s only natural if he’d been fighting with a knife. “The blood,” he starts.

He takes hold of Iron Man’s arm to move it to the side for better light. He blinks. It is just as he thought: the blood, Steve can see, is not a spatter caught from an opponent, it looks like it’s oozing from the obvious stab wound between Iron Man’s backplates to the right form the spine.

“It’s yours...” Steve finishes, blankly.

“Yes,” Iron Man replies calmly. “I need to report to the repair station before I bleed out.”

“You’re… wounded,” Steve goes on, not letting go of Iron Man’s arm. “You’re… human.”

“Up to a point,” Iron Man replies in a monotone. He’s standing still, probably waiting to be let go, but Steve’s fingers only tighten around his arm. “Captain, I need to go.”

Steve swallows, desperately drilling his gaze into the bright eye slits, hoping to see _something_ there. “Will you be alright?” he can’t help but ask.

“I've been worse.”

Steve knows it’s true. “You're going to the medbay, right?” he asks despite knowing that the answer will be no.

“The repair station is equipped to take care of all my needs, Captain.”

Steve keeps staring at him even though Iron Man doesn’t look back.

“Please,” Iron Man adds. The stiff way he is holding himself as if unable to pull away makes Steve let go with a jerk.

“Of course,” Steve says. “I apologize.”

Panic and confusion clawing at his insides, Steve watches Iron Man - man! He’s a man - leave the room. Taking calming breaths, Steve tries to compose himself, but it isn’t easy. Iron Man is flesh and bone. Human ‘up to a point’? What does that mean? Does he need the armor to live?   _A feat of genetic and electronic engineering._

Then a memory comes to him and Steve, feeling suddenly weak, sits down. Other memories follow and he closes his eyes, remembering.

 

_“The order to stand down and report to the closest repair station should help. That order hasn't been ignored in years, isn’t that right, Iron Man?”_

_“I know what's good for me, sir.”_

 

_“Failure is not an acceptable outcome, Captain.”_

 

Jesus.

But there had been no foot, he keeps telling himself, just as another part of him is mocking: yeah, because there are no other people in this world who’ve lost a foot.

Also, suddenly Iron Man keeping his distance after Steve asked him out doesn’t seem like a choice, but something more sinister.

_The last re-calibration must have erased some of the information._

Oh god.

Had they known? Had they erased his memory? Had they-

Steve tears out of the room and into his living quarters he still has on the base. Thank god, he left his shield here, Steve thinks as he fishes his artist’s canvas bag out of the closet, pulls it over his shoulder and rushes back out to the stairwell. He knows the SHIELD repair station is a restricted area somewhere on the medical floor, he’ll just have to be stealthy to walk through it. He’s not sure why exactly he’s taking three steps to get down to the basement, because surely he’s misinterpreting- Maybe Iron Man had been just honest when he told Steve that he was human up to a point, maybe he’s an android with some human parts from somebody who - but that is just as gruesome an idea as the possibility that he’s some kind of a lab-grown experiment gone wrong, and the only thing Steve knows for sure, is that he has to know.

Panting more from emotion than the physical exertion, Steve soon stands before the locked door of the medical floor. He doesn’t have many options. He has to find out the truth, so Steve opens it with his card and steps through. There are always a few field agents in uniform hanging around, so he doesn't stand out too much in the midst of white lab coats and infrequent suits. Unhurriedly, Steve walks along the corridor towards the restricted area, and on the way, he slips into an empty locker room. There, he busts a couple of lockers open and finds what he’s searching for in the third one. In four minutes he’s out of the room again, sporting a little bit short khaki pants with many pockets, a hoodie and a white lab coat over it. Stooping, to make himself look a little smaller, he walks, looking down at the tablet he's grabbed from a counter, unnoticed by the two people are arguing next to it. He still has the shield bag over his shoulder, but it’s less incongruous with the doctor look than it was with a SHIELD uniform.

He's lucky - a busy looking older man Steve’s trailing behind, opens the door to the restricted area and when he turns to check who is coming in after him, Steve asks him commiseratingly, “Still no results yet, huh?”

“No, not yet” the man acknowledges. “But we are making progress,” he adds.

“Same.”

Steve nods in sympathy and walks past. The man lets him.

Steve knows that he needs to find Iron Man quickly before someone asks him who he is and what he’s doing here. He decides to find the corridors with less traffic and by chance hears a woman and a man talking about Winter Soldier’s healing rates in cryo. The mention of Winter Soldier makes Steve’s heart beat faster and pretending to be engrossed with something in his tablet, he follows them. Going by what they say, Steve figures they’re scientists and the way they talk about the project, the name of which he’d seen in Iron Man’s file, makes him feel unsettled. They are not actually cutting anyone up to see how the heal, are they?

Soon they arrive at large steel double doors where the man presses a finger to the panel on the left and they slide open. Steve slides in after them and to his relief, they pay him no attention. He hurries towards the high blocky machine of some kind and stops behind it out of everybody’s sight. He’s to the right side of the vast cavernous room. Thankfully there are rows of high working stations and massive machines along the wall he’s hiding behind. His head still lowered over the tablet, he peers into the room.

There are seven men and two women milling around, some busy behind computers, most dealing with some kind of machine or the other. Then one of them carts a tower of several large boxes aside and Steve’s heart stops for a moment as he notices a woman swabbing at a wound in the back of a strong muscular dark-haired man. They are both standing, and even though Steve can only see him from behind, he's sure that it's Iron Man. Steve is so sure. This is Iron Man and he’s human. It’s not even because of the placement of the wound, or that he’s still wearing the lower part of the armor; it's instinctual knowledge, backed up by his posture. It's a man, he's human, Steve tells himself again, with his heart beating in the rhythm of pure happiness. But it could be a very well executed android, he argues with himself. Maybe the olive skin and hard muscle is lab-grown. But then again, why black curly hair? Why the round butt and the sizable package?

Steve needs to get closer; he needs a different vantage point. Still behind the scientific equipment, Steve quietly walks further into the room.

“Turn around and sit down,” an older man with an air of somebody in charge, tells Iron Man.

Iron Man turns around and Steve stops breathing. The man, it is impossible to think otherwise now, is beautiful with his messy bangs that are falling softly on his forehead, the light stubble on his strong jaw, and a pair of the most gorgeous dark eyes Steve has ever seen: round, large and framed with long thick eyelashes. Iron Man’s face is troubled, but how Steve knows that is a mystery because his expression is blank, his facial muscles lax with indifference. For the moment, people around Iron Man aren’t paying him any attention; the man in charge is also still going through some kind of data on his tablet and Steve is worried that he’s going to be discovered before he finds out what is going on. Steve is deathly afraid that the Winter Soldier Project means that Iron Man truly is just an example of a new generation of androids, nearly indistinguishable from a human. That would at least explain the unearthly beauty of the man. Is he really just a sophisticated machine with added organic matter?

Two techs come and take samples from Iron Man - they prod and poke at him as if he were a thing, but Steve seems to be the only one who’s getting angry about it. Iron Man is sitting motionless in a chair that has some kind of circular prongs above it and two powerful lamps connected overhead. Even as the scientists are moving around him, connecting sensor pads on his temples and wrists, he's sitting hunched over, staring in front of himself and once more Steve is doubting himself - he can’t be an android, despite the empty eyes and the lack of basic respect people around are showing him. He can’t be.

The scientist that spoke before, slumps down in front of Iron Man and looks at him. "Mission report," he says in a tone that clearly indicates a routine. “Why did you deviate from your orders to return to the repair station directly when it was clear the suit was visibly damaged?”

“Captain Rogers requested my presence at a debrief.”

As monotone, as the answer sounds, it is clearly a real voice coming from organic vocal cords and Steve startles. It’s only then that he realizes he was expecting the usual synthesized sound to come from this man’s throat.

“But your armor was damaged,” the scientist says sternly. “You’re required to report to the repair station immediately after discovering visible leak of fluids.”

Iron Man hesitates, his brows drawing closer together. “The external leak was not detectable to my sensors.”

The back of the scientist moves in a sigh. “Your whole back was drenched, Soldier. You were leaving bloody footprints by the time you got here!”

“Captain Rogers detained me,” Iron Man says still in a monotone, but there is an unsure lift to his eyebrow and that is the first time Steve sees any inkling of emotion on his face that indicates a personality behind the placid facade. As painful as it is to witness for Steve, he’s also viciously glad: _not an android, not an android, not an android,_ his mind keeps babbling on repeat.

Meanwhile, Steve can see the scientist is sitting very still as if holding his breath. “Did Captain Rogers see the blood?” he asks, and Steve wills Iron Man to lie.

“Affirmative.”

The interrogator (because that’s what he clearly is) lets out a string of expletives and several people surrounding the two freeze in surprise.

“Did he realize it was yours?” he asks, his voice tense.

The pause now is even longer. “Inconclusive.”

Surprised at the lie, Steve can only stare at Iron Man while the scientist is furiously typing something on his tablet. After a minute he barks, “Armor status report?”

"Armor: functional. Dark grey and silver. Extensive repairs needed in the left lower section of the torso back plate. Right front shoulder plate bent, undefined damage in the mesh underneath," the Iron Man replies.

Later, Steve will be ashamed that it took him almost three seconds to fully realize the implications of what Iron Man had just said. Dark grey and silver. It was routine for him to report colors. There was only one possible reason that he would be required to do so: he had to report colors because there was a chance that after a mission he could start seeing them.

Which is one more piece of proof that he is fully one hundred percent human. As human as any of them, but being treated as if he isn’t. Rage is thrumming under Steve’s skin: why is he letting them do that unless he's been conditioned to do that? Trained by their masters like a dog - no. Worse than a dog, a dog would get treats, Steve thinks, gnashing his teeth.

He wonders what would happen if he marched there right now and punched the scientists in the teeth. He doesn't wonder what he’ll say to Fury or Pierce when it all goes pear-shaped. It's evident that things have gone terribly wrong here and Steve won't stand for it, but he’s been trying to play by the book, so should he call Fury and get authorization for the intervention or march straight in?

Frozen in indecision, Steve watches Iron Man sitting back to recline in the chair and the techs pulling heavy metal restraints over his torso, arms and forehead. Bile rises in Steve’s throat as he stares on numbly as Iron Man gratefully parts his lips for a mouth guard. It's only after he shuts his eyes, and his powerful muscles start twitching as if in pain, does Steve realize that this, also, is routine. Because the pain is not actual, but anticipated, obviously a habitual response to the restraints.

The scientist puts the tablet away and barks, "Wipe him."

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, but the tech sitting to his right simply nods and turns to the computer. “Which program do I run?”

"Clean slate this time; it’s started omitting information and misrepresenting facts again.” The man puts the tablet aside and stands up. “I’m gonna grab a coffee. Make sure it can’t remember how to shit, nevermind recognize Rogers.”

Iron Man’s scream is what brings Steve out of his horrified stupor.

He loses it.

Steve’s not entirely sure how his shield ends up wrecking every piece of equipment in the lab or why some white-coats are lying on the floor groaning or limp and bloody, but he’s sure that his first hit was aimed to cut the wires coming out of the chair. He remembers deciding that it was strategically important to do before he tore the device around Iron Man’s head apart with his bare hands. Then he slams his shield against the fastenings of the restraints and barks, “Come with me.”

Despite the obvious confusion on his face and pain still lingering in his eyes, Iron Man’s movements are liquid and graceful. He sits up and does what he’s always done: follows Steve’s orders. Somewhere between that moment and the moment they are out of the door, some bones get shattered and equipment smashed into useless broken parts, but Steve is viciously elated: for the first time since the ice, he truly feels that he’s fighting for the right thing.


	2. Chapter 2

As they run down the stairs towards the exit of the underground parking, Steve realizes that they are out of resources and have nowhere to go. Steve knows that they can't go home. He knows that even wounded, Iron Man is fast but they can't run out in the open, which means that SHIELD operatives will reach his apartment first. He can't use his cards, so the only money they've got is the twenty that was in the pants he'd stolen. At least, Steve remembers to grab a hoodie on their way out so Iron Man is not running around shirtless, but there is still the lower half of his armor that will make him stand out.

“This way,” Iron Man says and ducks into an alley.

Rationally, Steve can't know what Iron Man’s plan is or if he even fully understands the situation, but Steve still follows the other man through a series of narrow streets and into a back door of what turns out to be an electronics store, where to his astonishment he sees Iron Man just pocket a number of various tools, wires and gadgets the purpose of which he has no hope of deciphering. They both have hoods up and have adopted the hunched posture of untrained civilians and Iron Man is keeping his armored legs out of the view of any other customers. Thankfully, the store is big and there are only few people milling about.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks quietly when Iron Man starts slipping items into Steve’s pockets.

“Need to get my tracker out,” Iron Man answers equally quietly.

“Tracker?” Jesus Christ, Steve thinks. They’ve put a tracker in him. But of course they have. Steve should’ve realized.

Irrationally, Steve wishes that Iron Man would lower his hood and let him look his fill. Iron Man is human. He’s here, he’s human, and Steve could touch his skin if he-

Steve cuts off this thought and keeps watching out for any customers or stuff getting too close.

“Turn around,” Iron Man says, taking an inch-thin box with a small soldering iron from the shelf.

“What?” Steve turns his back to Iron Man and feels the edge of his hoodie on his back being lifted and the box being pushed between Steve’s waistband and his back. The excitement and arousal hits Steve like a lightning bolt, but maddeningly, as far as he can tell, their skin never even touches. He turns around again only when he feels that Iron Man has moved away.

They get out via the same backdoor and head south. Iron Man grabs some pants and shoes from the souvenirs market and Steve admires his constant ability to plan ahead. Steve’s ashamed of how he’s been dropping the ball since the whole nightmarish situation started. He needs to remedy his inattention.

“We better stay somewhere with a high population density for now,” he says. “How long do you need to remove the tracker?”

“Ten minutes should be enough.”

Steve brings them into a hole-in-the-wall restaurant where they hide in a tiny single-bathroom they both barely fit. First, Iron Man removes the last of his armor and although Steve tries not to look, Iron Man isn’t shy and there’s not much room for modesty, especially when Iron Man asks him to get his fingers behind the edge that ‘always gets stuck’. There are plain briefs underneath and Steve’s eyes snap up.

“If you put the armor into the bag, it’ll save time,” Iron Man suggests,

Gratefully, Steve starts gathering the pieces, but then he has to lean over Iron Man, then kneel in front of him and half-crawl behind him while Iron Man is getting out his tools. Not touching him is a challenge, but red in the face and almost panting, Steve manages not to touch the other man. The outline of Iron Man’s heavy sack, however, is forever commemorated in spank bank section of Steve’s brain. Now Steve is standing at the door, willing his cock not to react while Iron Man is sitting on the toilet lid with his metal ankle up on the other knee and taking out a tiny screwdriver out of his hoodie pocket.

The artificial part of the leg goes up over his knee and Steve is mesmerized by the intricate pattern of metal plates covering the whole surface of it. And there are toes. Iron Man is hunched over his metal leg which, strangely, makes him look less robotic, not more. Steve can’t stop looking at how Iron Man slides his palm over the leg, probably looking for something,  then puts a torch into his mouth to see better in the dull light.

“I can hold the light for you,” Steve says quickly.

Iron Man blinks at him as if he has forgotten Steve was there or maybe because of the offer of help. The gaze of his striking dark eyes sends a shiver through Steve’s body and he wants to touch. So, so badly. He can’t. They are on the run, Iron Man is removing a tracker form his leg and Steve shouldn’t think about touching his skin under these circumstances. And definitely not the back of his hand. The ridiculous image rises in front of his eyes unbidden and he chases it away.

Iron Man gives him the torch and looks down at his leg again. While he works on cleaning some mysterious grit off the metal plates, Steve is admiring Iron Man’s eyelashes, his soft mouth and strong fingers operating the small screwdriver and another tiny tool Steve has no name for. Iron Man pushes the tool in between two identical panels in his shin and one of them slids open.

“Your breathing is labored,” Iron Man notes.

“‘M fine,” Steve presses through his tight lips.

Steve tries to listen to what is going on behind the door, while also watching what Iron Man is doing. The opening he’s created is clearly too narrow, but Steve shifts the torch and Iron Man does something that makes several other plates come off in a row like elaborate puzzle pieces. The opening is now two inches wide and Iron Man reaches for another tool and wire cutters. It’s not even a minute when Iron Man gives Steve the tracker and then he is performing something closer to sorcery than simply fixing the tiny plates together.

“You’ve done it before?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“No. But after you’ve seen it once, it’s easy.”

Steve sincerely doubts it. He doesn’t think he’d be able to do it even in good light and slowly, nevermind at the speed that Iron Man is doing it.

“Flush it,” Iron Man tells Steve, as he stands up to pull on his new jeans and running shoes. Three minutes later they are on the streets, the pieces of the armor in the bag, and the tracker on its way to the sewers.

“Resources available?” Iron Man barks at him as if in the field.

It’s valid; they are. They are also on their way to the warehouse district with no idea (at least Steve doesn’t have one) where to go from there, but they manage to eat four hamburgers and two coffees on the go. (Iron Man’s large eyes go even wider at the taste of the latter and he gulps the rest of it down like ambrosia. Steve watches his Adam’s apple bob and swallows drily.)

“I’ve only got a few dollars left and I know only SHIELD safe houses,” Steve admits as they walk. It was stupid of him not to have prepared a bolthole or a stash of small bills somewhere, maybe found a way to buy some false documents…

“Understood,” Iron Man says. “I got supplies for an ATM instant skimmer, but I need an hour to assemble it and then some hours more to program it. Might take a while.”

“You mean to steal money from an ATM?” Steve has no idea if it’s even possible, but he trusts Iron Man.

Hour later they reach the warehouse district, and Iron Man says, “I need somewhere with electricity, internet connection and a computer.”

To Steve it sounds as if Iron Man has requested reservations at a spa hotel, but he tries to be helpful and patiently they search building after building, avoiding those that have obvious security measures.

It’s all Steve’s fault. How could he have been so naive? Steve should’ve thought ahead. He should’ve prepared for the eventuality that he’d need somewhere safe with food and an internet connection. He should’ve been smarter and followed Iron Man into the ‘repair station’ months ago, instead of trusting blindly to what he’d been told. Like an idiot, he’s been ordering Iron Man around for over a year now, simply assuming that his compliance was a given, par for the course, unaware of having become a part of the abuse cycle. Steve will never forgive himself.

_I should’ve saved you a long time ago, Shellhead. I’m so sorry._

 

They get lucky when they find an empty, abandoned warehouse with a guard station that has a sink, a bunk and even more importantly, an old desktop computer on the old rickety desk.

“How do you know that there’s internet here?” Steve can’t help but doubt it; the old warehouse isn’t even guarded, why would anyone pay for its wifi?

“There’s an apartment complex behind that wall.” Iron Man indicates with his hand. “Someone’s bound to have one that spreads here.”

“Aren’t they all under a password?”

“Some of them are bound to have weak passwords.”

As they are inside, Iron Man (and wasn’t it ridiculous that Steve was still calling him that even in his own head?) lowers his hood and Steve forgets any line of inquiry he might’ve had; even though Steve would always think of Iron Man’s helmet as beautiful, seeing the shape of his head and his dark hair, his jawline… It will never compare. Silently, he watches as the other man (man, human, person!) clears the dust off the desk and sets his tools out in an order that seems random to Steve, but at one point Iron Man reorders some of the tools, so there’s probably some logic to it. When after turning the computer on, Iron Man pauses and looks at Steve, he remembers that some tools are still in his pockets and lays them out a bit further away to allow Iron Man to place them where he chooses. Next, Iron Man sits down and plugs the small soldering iron in.

"What are the mission parameters?” Iron Man says in a monotone voice, and Steve suddenly realizes that at some point during the day he’d begun speaking with more inflection than that but has now reverted to his robotic speech patterns and it makes Steve want to weep.

“The mission?” Steve repeats stupidly.

“Breaking me out of the home base before the full recalibration tells me that you need my memory intact,” Iron Man explains. “I have to warn you, though, that at the moment, I only have the memories for the last three months. The last recalibration was June 2nd, but the longer I go, the more I’ll remember. Is the mission time-sensitive?”

Steve can’t answer. His heart is beating in his ears and it takes a moment to calm his breathing.

“June 2nd?” He tries to sound calm but knows he’s not entirely successful.

It had been the day Steve tried asking Iron Man out. Was there a connection? Was he the reason they erased his memory that day? Iron Man had said no, had still done so under his own council as far as Steve can tell because he doubts Iron Man has any set protocols for being asked out, but knowing about them erasing his memory just after that time, changes things. The deliberate indifference and avoidance that Steve had taken as a given but was deeply hurt by, has now a different meaning. It also means that Iron Man does not remember being asked out and it’s a relief and an ache. Because Iron Man said that in time he would remember more. Will it be awkward again? Or will it only be awkward for Steve? He has no idea what Iron Man’s reaction will be, but that’s a concern for another day.

“Do you know why they decided to recalibrate that day?” he can't help but ask.

Iron Man doesn't even look up from the strange device he's assembling. “Unclear. I must’ve started displaying erratic behaviour.”

“What do you mean by… You mean like today?” Steve sounds nearly strangled with emotion, but clears his throat and goes on with a forced calm, “You’d just given an answer they didn’t like, Shellhead. That is _not_ a reason for fucking with your brain.”

“That is not what the recalibration process is,” Iron Man insists to Steve’s horror. “My brain needs to be reset from time to time because it has a tendency to start making irrational decisions. Me omitting that you saw the damage my body had sustained is a good example. They knew I it wasn’t true. It had been pointless insubordination that had to be addressed.”

“No, it didn’t. Not in that way,” Steve said, full of conviction. “You just wanted to protect me.”

Iron Man shrugs. “And myself. In either case, I failed.” He unplugs the soldering iron and turns to the computer. “Skimmer will be ready in about four to seven hours. Do you want to move tonight or in the morning?”

“I think we might both need a couple of hours of shuteye. I'll make use of the cot, and you wake me when you finish. Whenever that is. I want you to sleep, too.”

“Asset doesn’t require sleep,” Iron Man says mechanically.

“Bull.” Steve sits on the cot and stretches. “Your body needs rest just like any other.”

“I’ll rest after the mission,” Iron Man says, clearly only half a mind on the conversation. “This body can go on for days without it.”

Steve wants to contradict him but figures there would be no point. He’s sure Iron Man will wake him as ordered and then Steve would just tell him to go to sleep. Ask. Insists in a friendly, but determined manner. Steve lowers his head and squeezes his eyes shut. It would be so easy to just order Iron Man to take care of himself, but given what Steve knows now, he shouldn’t. _I’ll never give him orders again,_ Steve tells himself even though he recognizes it as a lie it is. It will be impossible not to give Iron Man any orders at all while they were in this mess. After though.

Steve’s heart contracts painfully in despair: if given a choice - would anyone choose to stay friends with their former abuser? Ignoring the pain and regret, Steve lies down and tries to fall asleep.

The quiet tapping away on the keyboard should be calming, and in a way it is, but Steve still can’t succumb to sleep. He's lying on his side, facing Iron Man and enjoying the view, ready to close his eyes at any moment. Bad enough he's having trouble not warding away his lewd thoughts, being caught staring would be even worse. The line of Iron Man's strong shoulders makes Steve imagine holding on to them as Iron Man slowly fucks into him, his face looking intent above Steve. Or maybe Steve would grip his hips or cup the perfect round globes of his ass, as Iron Man pounded him into the mattress on this weak squeaky cot he was lying on right now? Or maybe Iron Man would hold Steve’s wrists above his head as his powerful thighs pressed-

Abuse. Victim. Steve swallows back his despair. How could Steve be so disgusting? Suddenly, he feels an overwhelming relief that Iron Man rejected him all those months ago. If Iron Man had said yes, and if Steve had pressed for anything more and been accepted… Steve would never have forgiven himself. There is no question in his mind about Iron Man’s ability to consent at this point. What has been done to Iron Man is gruesome, and Steve can't let himself feel it yet. He can't fall apart. Right now, Steve has to stay on top of the situation. Acknowledging facts, however, is vital for strategic analysis, so Steve notes that even though it is essential for his personal well-being, Iron Man is still readily accepting the absolute lack of information about the situation they are in. As if he trusts Steve, or (more likely) he's just used to obeying his superiors blindly. Up until today, Steve had always admired his subordinance and cooperation, but it's glaringly obvious that any curiosity and initiative has been rigorously trained out of him. How long has Iron Man been a part of the Winter Soldier Program? It couldn't have been very long, Iron Man barely looks twenty-five.

Steve needs to ask Iron Man questions but for obvious reasons, he's dreading it. Thankfully, he has a few hours before morning, so he's procrastinating.

Fact one, Iron Man is a victim of brainwashing and Steve can't immediately give him the help he really needs. So he just needs to make sure he inflicts as little damage on Iron Man's psyche as possible. Fact two, the help Steve can give might get them both killed, land Steve in prison and Iron Man back under his abusers’ thumb. None of the outcomes is desirable, therefore Steve will make sure they won't happen. Fact three, he needs a plan and for that, he needs further facts about their 'mission'.

Tired of pretending to rest, Steve gets up and walks outside. Predictably, Iron Man ignores him. It’s dark, but Steve can still see enough to find a rickety fire escape ladder and climb out onto the roof. Quietly, he goes out into the middle of it and lies down on his back. There are a scant handful of stars out at this hour and if he didn’t have serum-sharpened sight, he’d see even less, but he still enjoys the little he can see.

So, Iron Man thinks Steve broke him out for his knowledge and skills. He thinks there’s a mission Steve needs him for. Well. There is a mission, that much is true. First, Steve has to find out if there is actually anyone in SHIELD he can trust. Does Fury know? Does Pierce? How deep does the moral rot in SHIELD go? Does Steve need to take down the whole organization or is it just a web of corruption with a couple of figureheads? Who in SHIELD can Steve trust to not betray him? With resentment, Steve admits to himself that he doesn’t truly trust anyone from his own team, let alone anyone else in the organization.

The only one he ever built any close rapport with is Iron Man and he did it thinking that Iron Man couldn’t really respond in kind. Sighing, Steve remembers various instances where people had reached out to him, but he never made an effort to meet them halfway. It’s time to accept the truth: it’s not that people are so much different nowadays that he can’t understand them or they him, it’s that he’s been afraid to make a connection. He’s been keeping everyone at arm’s length, never even trying to make any real friends in or outside of SHIELD. Unless he counted… But no. He’s only spoken to Wilson once. An invitation to find him at the VA is not the same as a willingness to help in aiding and abetting. But Steve’s instincts tell him he can trust the man.

 

Two and a half hours under the stars allow Steve to come up with a tentative plan. He goes inside, sits down on the other side of the desk Iron Man is coding behind and says, “What’s been done to you, isn’t right.”

For a moment, Iron Man’s hands still. “What do you mean? What’s been done to me?” His tone is level, but there’s a tension in it and Steve welcomes it. It means that on some level Iron Man understands.

“I want to ask you some questions about the Winter Soldier Program. We don’t have to do it now if it’s distracting you from your work though.” He’d prefer to get on with it, but coding was important.

“Coding this thing is routine. I’m ready to answer.” Iron Man is still looking at the screen and his fingers never falter from their task.

Steve nods. “What is the Winter Soldier Program?”

“The Winter Soldier Program develops super soldiers that serve humankind. We bring order into chaos. We shape the world for a better future.”

The rhetoric is both what he expected and also the last thing he expected because he remembers that last sentence. So Pierce was behind it or at least a part of it.

“And how exactly do you do it?”

Now Iron Man glances at Steve with suspicion as if wanting to ask what he’s getting at, but of course, doesn’t. “There are missions,” he says matter-of-factly. “Problems that need to be dealt with. Problems no one else can solve. You’ve been to those missions too, you’re head of the STRIKE Team Alpha.”

“True,” Steve concedes. “Do you know who within SHIELD is directly involved in the Winter Soldier program?”

“Doctor List is the head scientist,” Iron Man says, as he glances at Steve, with a lightness in his eyes that is hard to decipher at first. “You broke his ribs, then the wrist and a left thigh bone.”

There’s no glee in Iron Man’s voice, but his eyes are very expressive, and Steve vows to find out all the people who ever hurt Iron Man and break all their nonessential bones just so he could see that happy glint again.

“The older man who interrogated you?” Steve asks to confirm.

“Yes.” A furrow appeared in his brow at hearing the word ‘interrogated’, but he doesn’t argue against it. “Agent Strucker,” he goes on, “is the head of the program on SHIELD’s side and as far as I know, Secretary Pierce is the only one to assign the missions. Except what I do with STRIKE.”

“Seems too low-level for Pierce to assign missions. How often does that happen?”

“All top secret missions go through Pierce,” Iron Man says seriously. “Sometimes Agent Strucker briefs me, but most of the time it’s Pierce who shows me the picture and gives the date and time. Sometimes the method.”

What Iron Man says is a revelation and it isn’t, because for some time now, it’s been clear to Steve that the files he’d seen a year ago reflected only some of Iron Man’s skills. Now he knows what they’d been trying to hide. Iron Man is an assassin. Maybe _that_ is what the Winter Soldier Program really is. Had Iron Man known that when he applied? Or did he even apply? The thought makes Steve’ fist clench under the table. What is he was an unwilling subject?

But what if that’s the man Iron Man already was, a tiny voice in Steve argues. Maybe that’s _why_ he applied. Or maybe he’s a convicted criminal and this is his sentence? No. No. Even if Iron Man had been the most despicable human being before the Program this is not the way to treat people, even murderers. And there have been instances when Iron Man didn’t have to be thoughtful and caring but was anyway. Steve had always thought it was in his programming, but Steve had a hard time imagining that people who ‘programmed’ him to _kill_ would teach him to leap after a balloon a kid had let go of, or to save a dog from the kennel it was chained to when there were explosions going off all around them. No, in his gut, Steve didn’t believe Iron Man to be a callous murderer. Not even close.

Swallowing painfully, through his dry throat, Steve asks, “Do you remember how you became a part of the Winter Soldier Program?”

Iron Man is quiet for a bit, thinking. “Unclear.”

Slowly, Steve nods. Given the nature of the program, Steve can’t assume voluntary participation. But maybe Iron Man was short of money and participation was well compensated? Or maybe he was part of a really patriotic family and just wanted to serve, but for some reason couldn’t do it in the usual way? Maybe the military wouldn’t take him, but this program did? Steve can certainly understand both motives. Or maybe Steve is just projecting and Iron Man was a homeless man kidnapped because he was young and looked strong.

For now, Steve has to put his aside his theorizing and move on.

“Do you know who else is involved in the program?” Steve asks next.

“I don’t know everyone’s names,” Iron Man replies. “But if you need them, I can remember their faces.” He stops coding and turns around on his chair to see Steve better. “Once more memories start coming back, I might also recall more names.” There’s an earnest tint to his voice.

“So you are sure that your memories will come back?” For a moment Steve lets the desperate hope to swell in him: to know Iron Man’s name, to get to call him by his real name and hear him use Steve’s-

“No one has said it,” Iron Man interrupts his musings. “But that's the assumption my handlers have been working with.”

Steve nods. “That’s good.”

Iron Man turns his gaze back to the screen. “Might be quicker if you tell me what memories you need specifically. Maybe I’ll remember them quicker if I try.”

The last thing Steve wants to do is tell Iron Man that he’s only valuable to him as a data source. Even less does he want to tell Iron Man what to do.

Never again.

“No that's okay,” Steve says. “I think it might be better if it comes back to you naturally. Just tell me if you remember anything you think might be relevant.”

 _Like your name,_ Seve thinks irrationally. _I want to know your name._

 

Early, the next morning they go to the nearest shopping centre and find an ATM. They make sure that the security camera can’t see their faces and take a few dollars from several thousand accounts. That the device Iron Man built and programmed works, or that it takes a while to extract the money, is not a surprise. It’s also a given that Steve’s palms are sweating, but that they manage to shovel all the money into their sports bag and walk away, is.

They eat in an inconspicuous diner and Iron Man orders a second cup of black coffee. By the time he is finishing it, he has a curious expression on his face, but Steve doesn’t want to comment on it, lest Iron Man falls back onto his impassive mask. Instead, he makes small talk. Most of the time Iron Man is silent, but he is listening and sometimes, when Steve says something funny, there’s an uptick at the corners of Iron Man’s lips and lightness in his eyes.

Steve can’t enjoy it for long though. Only a little bit later, when the diner is mostly empty and Iron Man’s face neutral, Steve decides he has nothing much to lose. He asks quietly, “What’s your name? Your civilian name?”

He finds himself holding his breath because it feels like knowing the name of the man he’s been in love with is essential for his entire existence. The silence stretches for far too long and Steve’s heart sinks.

“It’s classified,” Iron Man says and turns to look out of the window.

“But do you remember it?” Steve hates himself a bit for how pointedly he’s forcing the issue.

“Iron Man,” the other man says, turning back to look at Steve. “I’m Iron Man,” he repeats, but there’s tension in his shoulders.

 

Later, they stock up on food and other essentials, Iron Man buys a small laptop and two burners and Steve gets them comms and some other spyware they might need. After lunch, they are back in the warehouse, they’re using as their headquarters, and Steve is trying to map out the evidence board in his head.

 

 _Crime:_ _the existence of the Winter Soldier Program._

_Objectives:_

_1) find out who the culprits are_

_2) find out if there were more Winter Soldiers besides Iron Man_

_3) find out if there was any more criminal element within SHIELD_

_Findings:_

_1) Pierce, List, Strucker_

 

If only Steve could find out who he can trust within SHIELD, it would be so much easier. The whole organization can’t be rotten to the core, Steve keeps telling himself. But they have to plan carefully.

“Do you know if Director Fury knows about the recalibrations?” he asks once they’ve put away everything they bought.

“That is a very specific question, Captain.” He turns away from his laptop, he’s setting up on the desk next to the old computer, and looks up at Steve. “Not whether he’s aware of the program, but the recalibrations.”

“The file they gave me on you had the name of the program, so I was aware of its existence, but not what it entailed, which is the measure of the culpability in my opinion.”

“Culpability?” Iron Man frowns and Steve is torn about feeling the ache at Iron Man’s continued obliviousness about the program’s evil nature and joy at seeing at least some kind of expression on that beautiful, stoic face.

“Yes,” Steve hesitates, but then forges on, “yes, I think that people who have been working with the program directly or know its details are criminals. You are my friend and I want to make sure that everyone who’s ever hurt or harmed you pays for their crimes.” He pauses again, waiting for Iron Man’s reaction, but the man is sitting still, hunched in on himself and probably unaware of it. Steve wants to put his arms around him, hug him and tell him that it would be okay, but he can’t. He’s more or less sure that his touch wouldn’t be welcome and he can’t actually promise that anything would be okay ever again. Steve certainly feels like his world has shifted. Up is down and... horizon seems sideways.

Just like when he’d first woken up in a strange new world to find out that while he slept, everything had changed, it was now changing again: an organization that was supposed to protect freedom and lives of the civilian population were torturing and brainwashing people into killing for them. Steve willingly joined that organization, also killed at their orders, so how can he be sure that only the guilty have died? He can’t. Bile rises into his throat, and then, he’s suddenly gripped by such an awful suspicion that for a second he can’t even vocalize it.

“Are there…” He swallows. “Do you know if there are more Winter Soldiers besides you?”

“Not as far as I’m aware of.” Iron Man replies, eyes once more glued to the screen, fingers furiously typing. “It has even been inferred that I was the only successful participant.”

Steve nods. That’s good. “Do you know…” He tries keeping his voice steady. “What happened to the others?”

“As far as I know, none of them survived the injections.”

Steve’s eyes go wide as the memories of his own injections flit before his gaze. “The injections?”

“Nobody has said it, but I assume it was the super soldier serum and no one really knows why I survived.”

For a while, Steve is just sitting there, with his fists in his lap, then deciding to just file this newfound knowledge away, he continues, “Does Fury know?”

“I’ve always assumed that it is not a secret among SHIELD uppers, but I was obviously wrong about you, so I’m past making assumptions.”

Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “You thought _I_ knew?”

Iron Man shrugs. “Why wouldn’t you know?”

For a little while, Steve can’t get a word out; his mouth is opening and closing and Iron Man is looking at him curiously.

“Shellhead, most people in SHIELD don’t know. They _can’t._ If they knew, the Program would’ve been stopped long ago!”

Iron Man is still frowning. “Why?”

“Because it’s… Because what they’ve been doing to you is… it’s _torture!_ ”

Iron Man doesn't seem to be upset. “Not everything that hurts is torture,” he disagrees. “Sometimes pain is necessary. Pain builds strength, pain gives respite.”

“...Respite?”

“Well, I mean… cryo hurts too. Going in and coming out, but it gives my body the rest it needs, and that is why I am as young and strong still.”

“What… exactly do you mean by cryo?”

“Cryogenic stasis. Wasn’t it in the file?”

Mutely, Steve shakes his head.

“They put me on ice when there are longer periods between missions,” Iron Man says calmly. “I haven’t been for the past year as far as I remember. Maybe that is why I keep messing up and need recalibrating more often.”

A thrum of helpless rage is boiling under Steve’s skin but he can’t let it out. It won’t help.

“Iron Man… Shellhead, it’s not…” He shakes his head. “Shellhead, it’s not… normal, to treat a human being like this.”

“A human…” For a moment Iron Man seems confused, then his face colors and he looks down. “You’ve misunderstood,” he says haltingly, with an air someone that has to explain a stupid misunderstanding despite his second-hand embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I… I’ve been warned not to do it but I still… I’m sorry.”

Steve can't be sure what Iron Man wants to say, but he thinks he has a fairly good idea. Gently, he puts his hand on Iron Man's knee to calm him. “Shellhead, stop. Whatever you are apologizing for, don’t. I’m sure it’s not your fault.” He pats the knee and with reluctance, lets go. “Just spit it out, okay?”

Swallowing, Iron Man nods. “Yes. Alright. I understand how we got into this argument now. I’m afraid my behaviour has confused you. You think I’m human, but I am not. I’ve been warned not to act like a human, but sometimes I still slip and that’s why you’ve misunderstood… I’m sorry for misleading you.”

Hot tears are prickling behind Steve’s eyelids and it’s difficult for him to speak.

“Iron Man. Shellhead. You. Are a human,” Steve said, stressing each word. “Just like me, just like anybody. You bleed like a human, talk and think like a human. The reason you tend to act like a human is because you are one. You have not misled me. If anything, we've both been lied to.”

Iron Man opens his mouth to say something, but Steve cuts him off, “They have you reporting the colors of your armor every time after a mission, right?”

Mutely, Iron Man nods.

“That’s because they know that somewhere out there you have a soulmate,” Steve says, hurt, deep like a wound carving itself into his sternum. “And every time you go out, there’s a chance that you can meet them, so they check for it. But, you are still grayscale, right?”

“Yeah…”

Iron Man is not arguing anymore. He looks shocked, overwhelmed and upset, but he’s silent.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says.

 

It isn't going to be a date, he keeps telling himself. He isn't going to ask Iron Man out, so it’s going to be a nice dinner at a semi-nice restaurant, no dancing, no flowers and certainly no touching. No point in even daydreaming about it. So Steve tries not to, but Iron Man's skin is calling to him. Is begging for him to press the back of his hand to Iron Man's. Every atom in Steve is shouting for the contact that isn't to be and Steve’s heart is weeping.

So, yeah, they are just eating and there’s some quiet conversation where Iron Man mostly listens. He always answers when directly prompted but it feels so much like a trained response that Steve usually tries not to ask the man anything. It is ingrained into the language though, so after the third time Steve manages to ask Iron Man ‘what about you’, he added, “You do know that you don't have to answer me if you don't want to, right?”

Iron Man startled. His dark eyes stay thoughtfully on Steve's for a bit as if analyzing.

“I know,” he says quietly.

“You do? Are you sure?”

“You've never punished me for improper protocol.”

That Iron Man would have protocols for conducting a conversation Steve suspected, but what shocks him right are all the times he can now recall where someone had touched Iron Man and he would just stay, motionless, until they let go, or the instances where somebody tried to direct Iron Man’s movements physically and he’d just acquiesced. The realization makes Steve feels helpless, angry and miserable.

‘I'm sorry,’ Steve wants to say. ‘You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to,’ or, ‘you can always shrug my hand off if you want’ and ‘I will never hurt you’ or even, ‘I will never let anyone hurt you like this ever again’. But Steve has no idea if he can make such a promise and any of these phrases would sound awkward and too obvious; embarrassing for them both.

Before Steve can figure out what to say, Iron Man says with a suddenness that for him, counts as blurting, “I know because I checked.”

He ducks his head as if embarrassed. It makes him look oddly vulnerable and Steve wants to cover Iron Man’s hand with his.

“I will never hurt you,” Steve says, his voice hoarse. “Not on purpose.”

For a moment Iron Man simply looks at him, then he nods, and Steve can breathe again.

 

Later Steve will tell himself that it was an accident, but he still feels guilty, because a pretend date is the most stupid reason for being spotted. All it takes is a dutiful police officer that has Steve's picture and in ten minutes they are being chased by a helicopter, two unmarked dark vans and a team of field agents. Steve is sure more are coming.

It was stupid to bring Iron Man to an area covered in CCTV. They are running at top speed, jumping over obstacles, hiding behind cars while the chopper is chasing them with a sniper on board. As much as Steve is worried about the crowds on the street, they are also the perfect cover because a helicopter adorned with a SHIELD logo can’t risk shooting a random civilian and the van drivers seem to be averse to outright running people over.

“This way,” Steve yells and throws a trash can at the agent behind the wheel. It doesn’t shatter the glass, but supersoldier strength is good enough to crack it into a thick web of lines and the van veers off the road. Iron Man and Steve duck into an alley.

It’s a dead end.

Steve calls himself names and together they bust a door that leads into an apartment building. Before they even reach the end of the corridor the stairwell door opens and the agents are shooting. Iron Man smashes a door to an apartment and they are through it and out the window in two seconds, only to find the helicopter is still there. There’s a sharp pain in Steve’s right ankle and he falls. The grazed palms don’t register, but the sharp edge of the recycling bin takes the skin off his left cheek and the blood is dripping on Iron Man’s shoulder who is supporting Steve’s limp-leaping.

An alley saves them from the sniper, but three agents round the corner in less than a minute. It’s actually lucky that they are as close as they are because once they duck out of the first shots, disarming regular humans, even trained, is a child’s play for both Iron Man and Steve. The agents are down in a minute and Steve and Iron Man are off again. Steve tries to keep his injured foot in the air, but it’s a losing battle - the longer they are out here, the worse the blood loss gets and the more likely it is for either one or both of them to get shot.

“Leave me,” Steve pants, as they’re running behind the cover of the cars and then slip between houses. “I’ll take a left here, you go right.”

“This way. There’s a tunnel,” Iron Man says, ignoring Steve’s words and dragging him by the arm in his chosen direction.

“I’m slowing you down,” Steve explains. “It’s gonna be fine, they’ll just put me in a cell, I’ll get a lawyer and I’ll tell them about the Winter Soldier Program,” Steve insists even though he’s not entirely sure that it will be as simple as that, but Iron Man might not know that.

With an outstretched arm, Iron Man turns back and shoots at their pursuers. Steve has no idea where he got the gun, but he’s grateful for it. He’s getting dizzy, but surely he’s not lost that much blood? Their speed is barely any faster than the agents’ and Steve can see a dark unmarked van approaching. He pushes Iron Man away and stops running.

“Go, I’ll hold them back!” Suddenly, he has to lean on the tree, to keep himself upright.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Rogers!” Iron Man curses, putting his arm around Steve’s waist and forcefully dragging him into another narrow street.

“Let go of me!” Steve tries to punch the other man. “That’s an order, Iron Man!”

To Steve’s shock, instead of doing what he’s told, Iron Man takes advantage of Steve’s imbalance and pulls him behind a big truck parked near an alley. He drops him onto his bleeding leg and opens a manhole.

“Get in,” Iron Man barks.

“Do you even know where to go from here?” Steve asks, even as he obeys. “They’re just going to jump in after us.”

“Not quickly enough,” Iron Man says.

Once down, Iron Man tackles Steve with a fireman carry and takes off with an unlikely speed. Iron Man’s hand in his feels grounding and despite being upside down, he feels remarkably better than before.

Iron Man can’t keep the speed up for long, but losing their pursuers at the beginning so that SHIELD has no idea where they’ve gone is the crucial part. After that, their speed matters less than the destination.

“They’ll just pull up the sewer maps and have teams meet us at all the openings,” Steve says after Iron Man has put him down again.

“Then we’ll just have to reach our destination before they do.”

Steve would shake his head if all of his energy wasn’t being spent on the limping. “And how do you suppose we do that?” His arm is still around Iron Man’s shoulders, his hand clasped in the strong calloused one, and with every step, he feels the pain lessening as his muscles are knitting themselves back together.

“By choosing the least likely route,” Iron Man responds and takes the second left.

“You know where we are going then?” Steve asks curiously.

“I had to memorize the whole city sewer system when they assigned me to STRIKE.”

“And you still remember it?” Steve asks, but then wants to hit himself for the reminder.

“Most of the time, impersonal knowledge tends to stay untouched during recalibrations,” Iron Man explains.

 

All in all, they wade through the city muck for over two and a half hours and by the end of it Steve’s ankle feels more grazed than anything, but he still feels reluctant to let go of Iron Man. When they come up not half a mile from Triskelion his eyes are hot from suppressed emotion, his hand where it had been grasping Iron Man’s is tingling, and his insides are quivering. It's ridiculous, it's just a hand, it's not as if they've been kissing!

It’s still dark out and in the cover of shadows, they walk for ten minutes and hail a cab. Everything’s a blur for a bit, his eyesight is dim and Steve tries to remember if he’s hit his head, but he’s too exhausted and can’t remember. When they arrive at the warehouse, it’s gotten better; he blinks the last of the blurry dimness away and looks up at the sun. It looks weird, the whole horizon does, but Steve ignores it.

Inside, after turning the low emergency lights on Steve wants to head straight towards the guard’s station, but Iron Man is standing in front of him, frozen, blocking his way.

“What’s wrong with the lights?” Iron Man says, his voice tense.

“What?” Steve looks around and yes, the lights are different, but Steve cannot really pinpoint in which way exactly, other than that they simply look weird. And the floor... the wide diagonally striped lines on the floor are strangely bright. There’s no other word for it really. It’s always just been black-grey, but the light grey portion is now… different.

They are standing shoulder to shoulder and Steve relaxes a bit; if Iron Man is seeing this too, then he probably doesn’t have a concussion.

The lights are, indeed, off, which is making the striped tapes look different. Actually, everything he sees is now tinted differently and suddenly there’s a pang going through Steve’s chest. He makes a guttural noise and with his heart beating in his ears he’s fishing out the chain his dog tags are on. Next to them, is a tiny metal container that opens like a book. With his fingers shaking he leafs through the twelve basic colors and their names: red, blue, green, yellow, and the rest.

“You seeing this?” Steve asks his voice full of awe and wonder. He shows the open pages to the other man and Iron Man looks. A smile is starting to overtake Steve's face because he’s gone colors with Iron Man and-

It’s bad because Iron Man’s eyes are not just wide with astonishment and shock, they are full of pain and grief so visceral that Steve’s elation is instantly evaporated, confusion and hurt taking its place. Steve’s instincts are telling him to put his arms around Iron Man and hold him, comfort him and keep him safe, but the other man has closed his eyes and is backing off, blindly, with his head turned away. Suddenly, Steve feels like the sun’s gone down, but the stars are not out and never will be; the eternal winter has gotten its claws into him and he’ll never be warm again.

Numbly, he watches as Iron Man opens his eyes, but only to look at where he's going, turns and walks shakily into the guard station. The door closes behind him with a dull sound.

Feeling half-blind himself, Steve finds the ladder outside and climbs onto the roof. For the first time in his life, he watches the light pink sun rise from its warm nest behind the horizon.

Alone.

 

Steve is dreading going back in. In his head, he’s making up all sorts of speeches depending on how Iron Man will act, but when he finally does get in mid-afternoon, his breath hitches and his tongue is heavy and stupid in his mouth as he sees Iron Man sitting behind his laptop.

“Don't shave,” Iron Man says, not turning to look at him.

Steve startles. “What?”

“We need a disguise,” Iron Man says. “A full beard is a good one. You should also let your hair grow out a bit.”

So they are not going to talk about it. Fine. Maybe it's not the time for that anyway. Maybe one of them won't make it, maybe neither of the will, and however strongly Steve's instincts are urging him to talk about it, he can’t push Iron Man.

"Alright," he says simply.

Iron Man’s idea makes sense, but the robotic way he's speaking again is making Steve's heart ache. His soulmate has been tortured and brainwashed, forced to kill and do whatever the SHIELD wanted him to and Steve had done nothing to prevent it. Nothing to stop them. Hadn’t even realized that he needed to.

For over a year.

“You should’ve let them have me,” he says, his voice dull. “When I got shot. You should’ve left me to deal with them. I’d have-”

“They’d have taken you,” Iron Man interrupts Steve’s agonizing. “And I know what HYDRA does with their prisoners.”

For a moment, all Steve hears is static. “What did you just say?” he manages to utter so quietly that he can barely hear it himself.

“Hell, I’ve _done_ those things to HYDRA’s prisoners.” Iron Man turns around with one hand still on the desk, but he’s looking straight at Steve. His eyes are deep, warm brown and Steve can’t look away. “It isn’t pretty, what they do to you if they want to break you,” Iron Man adds.

“HYDRA?”

Steve’s voice still sounds shocked, but somehow Iron Man’s serious, critical gaze is taking the heat off the revelation. With an effort, Steve breaks the eye contact and walks further into the room.

“So it’s been HYDRA all along?”

Iron Man frowns. “You didn’t know?”

The inflection is coming back into his speech and Steve tells himself to stop tracking these changes.

“No.” There’s silence for a scant short moment, but he cannot keep from asking - Steve _needs_ to hear more. “So how does this… SHIELD-HYDRA thing work? SHIELD was founded by people I loved and trusted, it couldn’t have been HYDRA in disguise from the start.”

It turns out Iron Man does not know a lot. To be sure what exactly they are dealing with, they need more information. Steve says so and Iron Man nods and turns back to his laptop. Steve knows it’s not a dismissal and in a few moments, he sees what hacking a server looks like. Steve sits down at the desk and pretends to look at the screen, not at Iron Man’s long fingers and thick eyelashes.

They sit there for hours. At some point, Steve gets out the food and nudges Iron Man’s elbow with it. For a moment, he looks surprised, his eyes flickering from the food to Steve’s face as if asking permission and Steve shrugs, puts the can on the desk and goes to stretch his muscles.

He exercises in the main storage room using the heavy lifting equipment as his gym machines, does calisthenics and contemplates what his options are.

Steve still can’t believe that he has a soulmate in this century. Does this mean that he was always supposed to end up here? Or did he get a soulmate because he didn’t die? Did he have another soulmate before? He’s not sure, can never be sure, but he’s surprisingly alright with that.

He has to make his life in this century now though. Even if Iron Man will never want everything soulmates usually have, they’ll make it work- If Iron Man needs time, Steve will give him time. If Iron Man needs to get away from Steve, he will wait for him to come back. If he will always be waiting… well. Then that’s his lot in life. To have a soulmate at all is a miracle. To see colors is a miracle.

Maybe, if they get through this, Steve will study art.

 

In the morning, they learn that Director Fury most probably wasn’t HYDRA because he’s dead. The news is showing his bullet-riddled car; nobody could’ve survived that.

“We need to get behind their firewalls,” Iron Man says. “Eradicating HYDRA is now the main objective, yes?”

“Yes.”

In a way, the revelation makes it easier for Steve - SHIELD didn’t brainwash his soulmate, HYDRA did. Only about third of SHIELD operatives were HYDRA agents, but even so, that is enough to make everyone compromised. It is impossible to untangle which orders were given or carried out by HYDRA; all of it has to come down. Steve is not surprised to see all of his STRIKE team on the list. He tells himself there’s no point in feeling betrayed by them if the whole organization is compromised.

Still, knowing who is HYDRA does not help them a much; they still cannot reach out. There are absolutely no guarantees of who would be willing to help them and who would turn them in. The public has no idea what SHIELD is and Iron Man and he are still fugitives. Nevertheless, one way or another, HYDRA is going down.

 

The week that follows is dedicated to growing beards, making plans and collecting data from HYDRA servers. As far as Steve understands, it’s hours upon hours of sifting through hacked servers, so he asks if he can help. Iron Man opens another connection on the old PC and now Steve gets to work too. Even though Iron Man grumbles about an AI being able to do this in a matter of an hour, Steve’s participation still speeds it up and in a couple of days, they’ve collected definitive proof of all of the HYDRA’s crimes that have a digital footprint. Unfortunately, the Winter Soldier Project gets rarely even mentioned and Iron Man thinks that the hard copies might be the only ones that exist.

When they find Project Insight, they realize that they need help.

In between research, Steve tries talking to Iron Man about their soul bond, but it doesn’t go well. The first time he tries, Iron Man stills and more or less goes catatonic. By the end of the sentence, Steve is not sure if Iron Man can even hear him. After that, he’s less direct, but hints and questions go unacknowledged and result in total withdrawal. Now, Iron Man is the one spending time on the roof, especially at night.

Neither of them sleeps much. Steve’s tempted to just order him to, but that would be: first, wrong, and second, the last order Steve gave Iron Man was to leave him at Hydra’s mercy and that hadn't gone over very well. So Steve is not at all sure that Iron Man would even listen to him. In general, Steve’s happy about that, but he wishes there was something he could do because on the rare occasions Steve sees Iron Man on the cot with his eyes closed, he starts twitching as soon his breath evens out. Sometimes he whimpers, sometimes he wakes up with a gasp; that he would have nightmares is more expected than surprising.

Steve tries asking if he’s remembered anything, but that too, results in pulling away and nights up on the roof. There are additional lists of names, people and assignments that Iron Man procures though, and at first, Steve thinks the information comes from the hacked servers. But the gruesome details that make Steve sick to his stomach and a glint in Iron Man's eyes make Steve soon realize what this is - Iron Man has memories and he’s using them to drive Steve away.

Well, good luck with that.

 

Next time they venture out into the city, Steve has a more or less full beard. His hair is slicked back and Iron Man says he needs shades.

“It’s winter,” Steve objects and Iron Man gives in with a shrug.

They buy Steve slacks, a button down and a jacket. Steve looks into the public restroom mirror and is not sure he likes what he sees, but it’s difficult to see Captain America in him now and that’s what matters. When he looks at Iron Man, his heart stutters and he tries not to stare, but even then, his eidetic memory keeps him on his toes. Iron Man is clad in a dark three-piece suit with a wine red (Iron Man showed him an extensive color-catalogue online) button-down. And a goatee.

A goatee. Iron Man looks mesmerising. He looks striking; noticeable, desirable. Sexy. At first Steve marvels at how fascinating it is to see the soul bond working because the notion that Steve’s mate would be someone who actually looks like a celebrity off the silver screen seems really over the top, but when they walk on the streets, people _stare._ And sure, they also stared at Steve when he was in uniform, but the way they notice Iron Man is… something else.

The point is, though, that Iron Man looks nothing like a Winter Soldier.

 

When Steve first saw what had become of Iron Man’s buzz on his chin and throat, he blurted, “You said full beard.”

“We can’t both have full beards,” Iron Man said. “We’d look like lumberjacks.”

Despite it being winter, Iron Man still wears shades. He looks arrogant and eccentric in a way a wealthy person would be, even though Iron Man assures him that nothing they are wearing is actually expensive. Steve doesn’t comment; in this new century everything feels expensive to him.

After trying out their disguise with a police patrol in distant Queens, they venture further into the center and Tony straight up walks up to a police officer asking for directions to the nearest place they could get some Italian. He gestures to Steve and explains that he and his artist buddy have a bet to settle. Neither officer recognizes them, so they walk up to the Triskelion front doors, then into the reception and ask to see agent Coulson.

They give fake names and are told to wait, but something is wrong. Steve can sense it.

“Don’t we have to meet Dave in half an hour?” he asks Iron Man in a reasonably quiet voice.

“Dave? You mean it’s today?” Iron Man is a scarily good actor. “Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

Iron Man looks around the room as if in thought, then leaps up. “Dammit!” He waves his hand imperiously towards the receptionist. “Tell Coulson we’ll be in contact. Let’s go!” He turns to Steve, but he’s already up and, ignoring the receptionist's protests, they are out before anyone can stop them. Quickly, they walk towards the main street and as they get into a taxi, they see two senior agents in suits come out of the building, looking around as if searching for somebody. They are not STRIKE or even field agents though, so it’s a safe bet they haven’t been recognized.

“We must have been right about Coulson,” Steve concludes.

“Yes, _they_ obviously know it too,” Iron Man says, “He’s probably either dead or being held captive.”

“Stop here,” Steve says to the cab driver just as they enter a tunnel.

They pay the man and let him drive on.

“Maybe he’s just in the wind?” Steve brings them back to the topic.

Iron Man shrugs. “What now?”

Steve doesn’t know what now. They need allies. They have the information about HYDRA within SHIELD on three memory sticks, one on each of them at all times and one hidden in a location they both know.

“We should just dump it on the internet,” Iron Man says again.

Steve doesn't answer. He knows all the arguments, but at the end of the day, Steve needs to make sure that Iron Man will not be prosecuted nor made into anybody’s flying monkey ever again and for that, they need people who know people. They need to know which SHIELD brain specialists they can trust or better yet, where to find a brain specialist outside of SHIELD.

Then they walk back out of the tunnel, take a bus in the opposite direction from their warehouse and eat lunch in a small family restaurant.

 

Certain that they haven’t been followed, they return only a couple of hours later, but just as they enter their warehouse Steve hears three beeps somewhere right behind him. Steve turns and they both leap back, crouch behind a row of crates. “You think it’s a bomb?” he asks. “Or a movement detector?”

Heart pumping with adrenaline again, Steve is peering into the darkness where the sound came from.

“Stop. Moving,” Iron Man says in voice low with such tension that Steve freezes immediately.

In the periphery of his vision, he can see Iron Man staring at him, wild-eyed.

“Whatever you do, _don’t_ move,” Iron Man replies forcefully. “It’s somewhere on your right hip, probably in the pocket.”

Steve feels his eyes widen and a cold ball of fear explodes in his sternum. “What is?”

Iron Man doesn’t answer. Instead, crouching next to his hip, he examines the pocket from the outside and then, very carefully, opens it from the top to peer inside.

“Do you see it? What is it?” Steve asks, but once more, his question goes unanswered.

“When I say go, jump into the guard station,” Iron Man says, his fingers still holding the pocket open.

Steve desperately wants to ask what does it look like, but instead, he simply replies, “On three?”

Iron Man doesn’t waste time either; he half rises from his crouch and counts, “One, two, three!”

Steve jumps and after throwing the thing he took from Steve’s pocket, Iron Man follows. They land behind a wall, Iron Man covering him as if shielding him from a potential blast. It’s ridiculous; Iron Man is smaller, so Steve grabs the arm that’s embracing Steve and rolls them so he’s on top. Iron Man grunts, but otherwise doesn’t protest. Steve thinks it might have to do with the fact that they’ve been waiting for several seconds now, but nothing happens. Slowly, they untangle and get up.

“You think it’s going to go off?” Steve asks.

Iron Man grimaces. “Hopefully not. Might’ve been a tracker?”

His expression hasn’t relaxed and it’s keeping Steve tense too.

“We should take a look,” Steve suggests, but for some reason, he’s waiting for Iron Man’s opinion.

Iron Man’s brows are still knit in concentration. “Stay here.”

Steve grabs his arm and glares at him.

There’s a tense moment when they just try staring each other down, but then Iron Man relents. “Fine,” he says. “Together.”

Carefully, still unsure as to what might happen, they creep back into the main store room.

“What did it look like?” Steve asks quietly as if the device could hear them.

“Like a flash drive.”

That… sounds weird.

But, strangely, it turns also out to be completely accurate. Dumbfounded, they stare at the small gadget. It’s a message, Steve thinks. Somebody in SHIELD wants to talk to them but doesn’t want the rest of SHIELD to know.

“Any idea what it could be beside the obvious?” Steve asks.

“It could be many things, but the most obvious is probably the right answer.” Iron Man straightens and decisively walks back to the guard’s station. “I’ll disable the wifi first,” he says. “Stay back in case it detonates upon connecting.”

He plugs the flash drive into the old PC while staying as far from it as possible, but again, nothing happens, nor does the virus scan uncover anything suspicious. There are only two files on the drive: a text document titled ‘message’ and a picture. The message says:

 

_We have something you might want and we think you have the information we need. We might be able to help each other out. If you agree, meet us at the Bethesda Fountain at noon. We don’t hail any beasts and we don’t have the words._

 

Unsure what to make of it, Steve gestures for Iron Man to click on the picture. To his great shock, it’s a picture of Iron Man’s face behind a sheet of dark frosted glass. His eyes are closed and his features are set into a rigid mask of pain.

“What is this?” Steve asks, but he already knows. Iron Man had told him about the cryogenic freeze, after all.

“A hint,” Iron Man says in a wooden voice, “that they have my file.”

A sharp intake of breath is the only reply Steve is capable of for a minute. There was a file on Iron Man, a more comprehensive file that the one he’d seen. Did it have Iron Man’s name? It must have. What Steve wouldn’t give to get his hands on that file.

“Could it be a trap?” Steve wonders out loud. He’s not tactless enough to remind Iron Man what the existence of such a file would mean for him.

“It could. But then again, if they got so close to us that they put it into your pocket, they could also have shot us both right then and there.”

That, Steve supposes, is true.

“They want to know how much we know though.”

“They have tranquilisers strong enough to hold me under for about an hour.”

Steve has to acknowledge the truthfulness of that statement. For a minute there, neither of them says anything.

“Wait,” Steve suddenly remembers, “what did they mean by not having words? What words?”

At first, Iron Man doesn’t say anything, then he stands up and walks around the desk to the kettle and turns it on. This seems to have become his crutch lately, whether it's when he's just woken up or still sleepless, working or bored, Iron Man brews himself a cup of coffee. Steve thinks he might be addicted.

“Shellhead?”

The ever-present ache, Steve experiences when he’s around his soulmate, is back with vengeance. He knows that Iron Man doesn't like to be touched, so despite the clawing need, Steve makes sure that he doesn't.

“Yes, sir?”

It stings that it still happens, even though Steve has told Iron Man he doesn't have to use honorifics, that he can call him Steve. Iron Man never calls him Steve.

“Can you tell me about words, please?” Steve does need to know about them, but he still steers clear of ordering Iron Man do anything.

“They probably mean the codewords that reprogram my brain into Soldat Mode. It’s the earliest layer of programming that renders most of the frontal and a part of the temporal lobe inactive, but leaves the body basic functionality and the ability to respond to orders.”

Steve doesn't know what to say. He’s not an expert on brain functions, but he does understand enough to know that essentially the words strip Iron Man of his personality while making him an obedient tool. Heavily, Steve sits down on the chair. He thinks that crying could be cathartic, but instead, he just wants to kill something. He wants it so much that his nails hurt as they dig into his palms and he has to work on evening his breathing out. For the first time ever he tries out the deep breathing technique in a real-life situation. It’s a bunch of baloney but right now he’ll try anything because a rampaging super soldier is the last thing Iron Man needs right now.

“You do realize that what they did to you was wrong, don't you?” he says after a while.

“Yes, you’ve been very clear about it,” Iron Man responds dryly.

Steve grits his teeth. “But do you believe it?”

There's no answer, and that, Steve supposes, is an answer in itself. Steve needs to ground himself in something other than pain and anger, but at this point in his life, he doesn’t have much.

“Your eyes are brown,” he says disjointedly. “Have you noticed? Deep, warm brown like chocolate.” Steve knows that Iron Man remembers chocolate because that was one of the first things he'd independently bought that was clearly an indulgence.

“Yours are blue,” Iron Man returns, but in a dry matter of fact tone that bares no trace of emotion.

Steve feels like an idiot. Why did he even say anything? He knows Iron Man can't do this… thing yet. Maybe he never will. So there was no point in pushing; why did Steve even-

“Your eyes are blue,” Iron Man repeats decisively. “Light like the pale air of an early morning. When you know it’s gonna be a hot day, but the sun isn’t properly bright yet. I remember sitting up on the roof all night as a boy, greeting mornings like this. Probably was the same color. It’s beautiful.”

Iron Man leaves the room before Steve gets his bearings back. Afterwards, he’s still sitting on the cot, thinking of Iron Man, his soulmate, whose name he doesn't even know, liking the color his eyes and remembering his childhood. For the first time, there’s a warm spark of hope in Steve’s chest. _Maybe we will make it,_ Steve thinks.

 

During the night, they pack everything they don’t want to lose, rob another ATM and stash everything in the lockers near a bus station. They insert their communication devices into their ears and get to the fountain before sunrise. There they climb on trees on the opposite sides of the square and wait.

Steve is not surprised that it’s Agent Coulson who arrives at noon, but what does surprise him is the warm welcome and that his first words are “Cards on the table.” Even more than that, throughout the whole conversation, Agent Coulson never asks Steve what he and Iron Man can offer, he just outlines what his objectives are and expresses hope that their interests might align. They talk while walking around the fountain and Iron Man listens in via comms from his hiding place.

“And who is the ‘we’ you keep referring to?” Steve asks at one point.

“I believe you know agents Barton and Romanoff?”

Steve nods. He’s not sure what his gut feeling is about Black Widow, but Hawkeye has always seemed like someone worth knowing.

Coulson continues, “They were ordered to stay out of sight by Director Fury.”

Surreptitiously, Steve tries looking around himself, but just as he expects, he can’t spot either agent.

“Director Fury?” Steve asks, not entirely surprised.

“Yes, the rumors about his death were, as it turns out, rather exaggerated,” Coulson says.

In the end, it boils down to this: Steve and Iron Man have digital data proving what HYDRA is and what's the actual aim of Project Insight, and Coulson's party has managed to get away with several hard copies of various files, including the one about the Winter Soldier Project and specifically Iron Man.

“The Helicarriers were due to take flight in about two months,” Steve says, “but most probably the launch has been moved up.”

“Do you know when exactly?”

“Iron Man thought that they looked about three weeks away from being ready.”

Coulson nods. “So we should move before that.”

“Agreed,” Steve says. There’s one more thing he really needs to know though. “Is it true what you said about codewords? That you don't have them?”

Steve's tense as he waits for the answer, and when he sees Coulson make a regretful face, he's not sure if he's more glad or disappointed, because knowing that these people can't take Iron Man away from him is good, but it also means that he still doesn't know who _can._

“It seems that Dr List made away with the little black book the words are said to be in,” Coulson explains. “I'll admit he wasn't our first priority, so by the time we sent Black Widow after him, he’d already skipped town.”

Steve is not entirely sure he believes Coulson, but he wants to, and it is true that if they’d managed to slip the flash drive into Steve’s pocket unnoticed, they’d probably been close enough to box them in in a dead-end alley and shout the words via speakers. So either they were telling the truth or just weren’t interested in taking the Winter Soldier. Or both.

Before parting, Coulson gives Steve a name: Dr Helen Cho, a neurologist specialising in rewriting a human body on a neurological level. She’d been briefly contracted by SHIELD but had backed out at the first opportunity.

“Everything looked good on paper, but the rumor has it that she’d initially disagreed with how the science department interpreted ethics,” Coulson explained, “so she might be a person of interest to you.”

 

That day, Steve and Iron Man spend more than three hours working on losing any possible tail they might have, rent a car, get their things from the storage locker and check into a drive-through motel.

For the first time, in a long while, Steve feels truly hopeful. If the tip about Dr Cho pans out, finding Dr List and his little black book might not even matter. Also, if Fury's people keep their promise to hand the files on Iron Man over and not pursue persecution, Iron Man could be entirely in the clear. Whatever happens after that, Steve would be grateful to have gotten his soulmate free to start a new life, whether they stayed together or not.

The idea that Iron Man might not want to stay together with Steve eats at him. It’s logical to assume that he would, but what if Iron Man prefers to cut all ties to his previous life? He hasn’t said. They’ve not spoken about it at all, in fact. All they ever discuss has to do with the mission; it’s as if Iron Man is incapable of thinking outside of the parameters of his current assignment. What if he is? What if his brain is damaged so much that that’s how his thought process works: from one mission to the next?

Steve refuses to believe that it’s permanent, Iron Man has not told him any more about his memories, but Steve knows that he has them. If the bad memories are coming back, surely some good are too?

Maybe they might've a chance; the two of them. Steve needs his soulmate. Why wouldn’t it be mutual?

“We’re keeping at least one flash drive, aren’t we?”

Steve startles. Iron Man has never interrupted his lonely musings on the roof before.

“Yes,” he replies. “I was thinking that if Coulson’s reassurances turn out to be empty, we can drop it all online.”

Iron Man nods, comes closer and sits next to Steve. The early morning sun is just coming out and it’s beautiful, but Steve wishes he could stare at his soulmate instead. For some time they are silent, but somehow it feels like a prelude; though Steve has no idea to what.

“Why did you negotiate for my file?” Iron Man asks, after a little while.

Steve frowns. “I’d prefer other people not have access to it, don’t you?”

“Are you going to destroy it?”

Confused about the wording, Steve glances at Iron Man. He's staring pensively into the red horizon as if waiting for the bad news and Steve has no idea how to make it better.

“Me? I thought… maybe you wanted to keep it in case anyone tries to prosecute? The files prove you weren’t responsible.”

Now Iron Man turns to look back at Steve.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… they show that you were brainwashed and made to do all those things; they prove that you had no choice, therefore are not culpable.”

Iron Man blinks. “But I did kill all those people. And maimed and tortured and…” He looks away. “I remember…”

He swallows, incapable of continuing. He closes his eyes and involuntarily, Steve’s hand rises to comfort his soulmate, but unsure, he lets it fall.

“There was arson once…” Iron Man goes on. “In an orphanage.”

_Oh, god._

“They built a parking lot on that place,” Iron Man says in a broken voice and now Steve can’t hold himself back any more.

“Can I hug you?”

For a moment, Iron Man doesn’t react, but then he shrugs uncertainly and Steve scoots closer. He puts his arm around Iron Man’s shoulders and swallows his own tears back.

“I think… somebody was contracted to build a new children’s home.”

“And those are the people that are responsible, _not_ you!” Steve says vehemently, squeezing his shoulder. “Not you.”

Then they are both turning towards each other and Iron Man is sobbing into Steve’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Shellhead. It was never your fault. None of it. Nothing they made you do is your fault.”

 

Later, they find out everything they can about the Helicarriers that HYDRA are planning to launch and discuss how to take them down most efficiently. The bad thing is, they can’t let Iron Man take an active part or even be seen in case anyone form Hydra has the Winter Soldier words.

The next day Steve shares their information with Coulson, Black Widow and Hawkeye in a hotel room Iron Man chooses an hour earlier. Fury and Iron Man participate via conference call.

They decide to make their move in four days because the quicker they attack, the greater chance they have of preventing the launch itself.

 

For Steve, the fight turns out to be somewhat anticlimactic. Along with Hawkeye and a team of field agents from other, more loyal STRIKE teams, Steve manages to quietly infiltrate the building’s hangars and neutralize soldiers. Predictably, the engineers give up without any resistance, but the programmers, who were active Hydra members, try (however briefly) to put up a fight. Alexander Pierce is killed in his own office and Steve is not entirely sure if that is the result circumstance or if Black widow was under orders.

After it’s all over, the first thing Steve does, is to call Iron Man. The phone is never picked up; instead, one of the STRIKE team members walks over to him and takes off his helmet.

“Shellhead!” Steve exclaims, and then incensed, he meets Iron Man half-way, grasps him by the upper arms and literally, shakes him.

To his shock, Iron Man grins. “Don’t worry, Cap, I had it all worked out. If they’d used the words on me, each and every member of this team would have shot me.” He frowns. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve wraps him into a bear hug, presses his face into Iron Man’s hair and holds on. He can’t even imagine how he would feel if he’d gone suddenly grey scale during the fight. Or ever. So he clings to Iron Man and clings to colors and doesn’t care that everyone is looking.

After a little while, Iron Man hugs back.

 

Much later, when Fury has recovered from his wounds, Steve marches into the Director’s office and punches him in the face. He doesn’t bother to tell him what for.

 

The reorganizing of SHIELD takes months, but fairly early into proceedings, Coulson hands Steve the promised files on the Winter Soldier Project and the one on Iron Man. Steve is gratified to find out that Fury himself contacts Dr Helen Cho on their behalf. Steve suspects that she’s being lured to join SHIELD with a ‘fascinating’ brainwashing case, but if she can really help, he’ll take it.

 

They move motels often because Iron Man gets jittery after a while. When they do, he never asks where they are going, but when they arrive, he relaxes for a bit only to grow more and more tense again as time goes by. Steve has no idea why that is and he’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid that Iron Man will tell him that he wants to leave Steve. He’s afraid that if they don’t move together, Iron Man will just disappear in the middle of the night and Steve will never find him.

The night before they are due to see the doctor, Steve finds Iron Man sitting on the edge of the bed in their fourth motel room. He’s staring down at the floor, but Steve can see that he’s not catatonic; just deep in thought.

Steve puts the take-out bag on the desk and sits down next to Iron Man. “Shellhead?” he asks quietly.

At first, Iron Man doesn’t react in any way, but then says in a barely there voice, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Iron Man lowers his head into his hands and mumbles that he’s sorry again and again.

“Why?” Steve asks, his heart in his throat. “Has something happened?” He doesn’t think anything has, but he needs to make sure. “Shellhead?”

“I’m so sorry you got me,” Iron Man says.

“You’re sorry I got…” Steve trails off, but then he realizes. “You mean as a soulmate.” He closes his eyes, anguished. “I’m not,” Steve manages to get out. “I mean it, Shellhead. I’m not sorry. Not at all.”

“Don’t, just… don’t.” Iron Man shakes his head. “I know that you can’t afford a cryo chamber. That’s why we’re going to the institute tomorrow.”

After a second Steve opens his mouth, but Iron Man is talking again.

“Every time we move, I keep thinking that maybe there’s a mission you need me for, but you never do.” His voice has gone anguished with pain, but Steve can’t interrupt because he’s struck mute with horror. “I know I’m defective, so I understand that you can’t keep me. But will you… will you come see me when they unfreeze me for my next mission? Lie if you have to.”

He adds the last one as an afterthought, but it’s not, it’s so clearly not, and hearing it, makes Steve explode.

“No! No, Jesus Christ, no, Shellhead!” Steve grabs Iron Man by his upper arms and turns them to face each other. “Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time? That I will let _anyone_ to put you into cryo again? That I will let anyone _hurt_ you or use you or make you their obedient little asset ever again?”

Iron Man’s eyes are wide with confusion and disbelief. “So the reason you didn’t destroy all the files is..?”

“To prove you’re not culpable!” Steve almost shouts. “Because you are not! Do you blame the gun that’s been used to kill? No. You did nothing you have to feel guilty for!” Steve relaxes his grip and swallows. “I didn’t… I didn’t read the files, but I know how old you were when they took you. I know how they tortured you. It’s their fault. The files exist so you can defend yourself, Shellhead.”

By the time Steve has finished his speech, the disbelief in Iron Man’s gaze is gone, replaced by something that looks more like desperate hope.

“You really think so,” he says with astonishment. “But even if… Do you... mean it? No cryo?”

“No. No cryo. Never again, Shellhead.”

“But what if I… need it?”

“No, Shellhead, you really don’t. But if you do, Dr Cho will find a way to help you, okay?” For a second or two, Iron Man stares Steve in the eyes as if looking for reassurance and Steve pours every ounce of his love into his gaze. He lets go of Iron Man’s arms and strokes them. “If there’s something wrong with your brain, we’ll deal with it together, yeah?”

Iron Man nods, and then, his voice still timid, asks, “What about… the chair?”

“No chair either,” Steve says with conviction. “I promise you, the only reason we are seeing Dr Cho tomorrow is to try and get the words out so that they can’t control you. So that nobody can control you ever again.”

With a woosh, Iron Man deflates as if a burden has been lifted, but the strain has left him damaged and tired.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Shellhead.”

Steve helps him to lie down on the bed and under the covers. When he tries to leave, Iron Man clings to him and in the end, they fall asleep, spooning.

 

The first few weeks at the clinic are not bad, but not good either. Steve is always there for the appointments and thus far, Iron Man has not protested. Iron Man gets cabin fever and frankly, so does Steve. They go to the gym, they spar, they go running.

On one occasion, a coffee machine breaks down while they are waiting for the next procedure and Iron Man takes it apart. The process seems to ground him, and even though with all the custom-made parts it takes him three days to put it together again, it has several new functions and people claim that the brew tastes better now.

Steve still doesn’t know Iron Man’s name, even though he thinks that Iron Man knows and that hurts.

 

“I just don’t see why you should put up with someone like me,” Iron Man says one night they’ve climbed up on the roof of a building they are renting a small apartment in. They are sitting shoulder to shoulder, leaning against a wall. Iron Man’s voice is quiet, pensive. Dr Cho thinks there’s a small tumor growing in Iron Man’s brain that’s either being kept back by the serum or is a side effect of it, and they don’t know if the invasive treatment is the right way to proceed.

Steve desperately wants to sit closer, to embrace his hurting mate, but it’s rare that Iron Man seeks physical closeness and Steve tries to respect that.

“You know the last time they put you in the chair?” Steve says after a minute.

Iron Man nods and looks away as if embarrassed.

“I think it was because I asked you out,” Steve says. “On a date.”

It’s difficult to admit. His mouth feels like it’s full of gravel and his throat like it’s been scraped with sandpaper. He understands better now, how unwelcome any indication of such closeness must have been to Iron Man back then because even now he clearly isn’t very receptive to it. And thinking that he was an android - how could Steve have ever thought that it was a good idea?

The silence stretches, but then Iron Man says, “I remember.”

He sounds as if it’s a good memory and Steve’s head comes up to stare at his soulmate.

“You do?” Steve blurts.

“Yes.” Iron Man’s mouth relaxes into his version of an almost smile. “Thank you,” he adds.

“What for?”

“Asking me out. I remember how that felt. As if I mattered.”

Steve inhales sharply. “You do,” he says insistently. “You matter very, very much. You matter to _me,_ Shellhead. You mattered to me before I even knew you were my soulmate.” Steve’s whole body is vibrating with the need to touch, to kiss and possess, but feeling Iron Man’s upper arm next to his will have to do. Except... “Can I hug you?” he asks.

Iron Man frowns. “Yes?” he says as if he has no idea why Steve is even asking.

Steve wants to know if hugging without some kind of breakdown is something that’s actually a possibility, if that could be allowed on regular basis, but for now, it’s enough to embrace his soulmate and just cling to him.

“I’m so glad I found you, Shellhead. I’m so grateful. Truly,” he babbles on. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go. You hear me? Not unless you want me to, but please, please don’t make me!”

Steve has no idea where the words are coming from, but they are there, bubbling up to the surface and the more he talks, the more Iron Man clings to him as if for once, he needs it too. Steve feels wetness on his cheeks, but these are not his tears and he welcomes them because Steve is always thankful for any emotion his soulmate chooses to express; that with Steve, he feels safe enough to allow himself. “Even before we went colors, you made my world brighter, Shellhead-”

“Tony,” Iron Man interrupts him then.

“What?”

“Tony. That’s my name. My name is Tony.”

 

What Steve later learns is this: Tony is a Stark, which means he’s as brilliant as he is rich and getting him declared alive is all the harder for it, because nobody who benefitted from his supposed death wants to return what they gained. But even though Tony doesn’t seem to have the greatest opinion of Howard Stark, the man had had the foresight to insist on mapping Tony’s DNA early on in the investigation of his disappearance and it makes it fairly easy to prove that he is who he says he is.

 

There’s a lot more that Steve learns over the years that follow:

He learns that Tony Stark really, really likes building things and he’s very, very good at it.

“I’m going to build Iron Man,” Tony tells him one day after a board meeting. “It’s going to be red and gold and it’s going to fly.”

Steve learns that the armor was always meant to fly, but when HYDRA took Tony, they never quite managed to make him finish the schematic or even explain them properly. Steve also learns that the name Iron Man was on the initial plans and that HYDRA were forced to start calling him that because that was the only thing he responded to after they wiped him the first time.

Steve learns that when Tony said ‘no’ to the date, what he meant was ‘please don’t tell them that you care’ and ‘please don’t let them hurt you’. Steve learns that they put him in the chair that last time because after Steve asked him out, Iron Man had seemed erratic, but had refused to tell them why, and they never found out the reason. He never told them because he wanted Steve safe. Steve learns that several people died that night because Tony couldn’t- wouldn’t accept forgetting that at one point, Steve cared. This is the first time Steve says, “I love you”.

The year that follows, helping Tony pretend to be unaware that Stane is the sole reason Hydra ever got their claws into him, is the longest and possibly worst year of Steve's life. They work together to strip the warmonger of every vestige of his power, money, and influence, and Stane proves to be not only vicious but insane when he comes after the two super-soldiers with nothing more than a gun and eyes full of cold hatred. After JARVIS’s recordings make the police believe that they killed him in self-defense, Tony comes apart. He does it quietly, all his defences just melting away as he shakes in Steve’s arms for hours.

Some days later, Steve learns that Tony kisses like he’s been made for it. When Maria Stark Foundation kicks off the next month, they make love for the first time. That is the night when Steve Rogers hears Tony Stark say “I love you”.

 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know how Tony became Winter Soldier, then click on the next work and don't forget to leave your appreciation to the writer!! :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
